MOLLY  ELLI 


WELL 


*> 


A    CERTAIN    QUALITY    OK   ATTRACTION   ABOUT   BLAIR   WHICH    MADE 
WOMEN    LOVE    HIM.—  Page  22 


Children  of  Destiny 


By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEA  WELL 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
A.  B.  WENZELL 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 


COPYRIGHT  1893 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT  1903 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


Children  of  Destiny 


2,0  619  S3 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  hot  June  sunshine  poured  down  upon  the 
great  fields  of  yellow  wheat  at  Deerchase,  and  the 
velvet  wind  swept  softly  over  them,  making  long  bil- 
lows and  shadowy  dimples  in  the  golden  sea  of  grain. 
The  air  was  all  blue  and  gold,  and  vibrating  with  the 
music  of  harvest  time — the  reedlike  harmonies  of 
the  wind-swept  wheat,  the  droning  of  many  bees,  the 
merry  drumming  of  the  cicada  in  the  long  grass,  and, 
above  all,  the  song  of  the  black  reapers,  as  they 
swung  their  glittering  scythes  in  the  morning  sun. 
One  side  of  the  vast  field  was  skirted  by  purplish 
woods,  through  which  went  constantly  a  solemn 
murmur — the  only  sad  note  in  the  symphony.  On 
the  other  side  rose  great  clumps  and  groves  of  live 
oaks  and  silver  beeches  and  feathery  elms,  shading 
a  spacious  brick  house  with  innumerable  peaks  and 
gables.  Beyond  this  house  and  its  pleasure  grounds 
a  broad  and  glittering  river  went  merrily  on  its  way 
to  the  south  Atlantic.  Nature  in  this  coast  country 
of  Virginia  is  prodigal  of  beauty,  and  bestows  all 
manner  of  charms  with  a  lavish  hand.  Here  are 

(i) 


2  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

found  blue  rivers  and  bluer  skies,  and  pale  splen- 
dours of  moonlit  nights  and  exquisite  dawns  and 
fair  noons.  Here  Nature  runs  the  whole  gamut  of 
beauty — through  the  laughing  loveliness  of  spring 
mornings,  the  capricious  sweetness  of  summer  days, 
when  the  landscape  hides  itself,  like  a  sulky  beauty, 
in  white  mists  and  silvery  rains,  to  the  cold  glory  of 
the  winter  nights ;  there  is  no  discord  nor  anything 
unlovely.  But  in  the  harvest  time  it  is  most  gracious 
and  love-compelling.  There  is  something  ineffably 
gay  in  harvest,  and  the  negroes,  those  children  of  the 
sun,  sang  as  merrily  and  as  naturally  as  the  grass- 
hoppers that  chirped  in  the  green  heart  of  the 
woods. 

The  long  row  of  black  reapers  swung  their  scythes 
in  rhythm,  their  voices  rising  and  falling  in  cadence 
with  the  cutting  of  the  wheat.  The  head  man  led  the 
singing  as  he  led  the  reapers.  After  them  came  a 
crowd  of  negro  women,  gathering  up  the  wheat  and 
tying  it  into  bundles — it  was  as  primitive  as  the  har- 
vesting in  the  days  of  Ruth  and  Boaz.  It  was  not 
work,  it  was  rather  play.  The  song  of  the  reapers 
had  an  accompaniment  of  shrill  laughter  from  the 
women,  who  occasionally  joined  in  the  singing — 

"  When  I  was  young,  I  useter  to  wait 
Behine  ole  marster,  ban'  he  plate, 
An'  pass  de  bottle  when  he  dry, 
An'  bresh  away  dat  blue-tail  fly." 

The  men's  voices  rolled  this  out  sonorously  and 
melodiously.  Then  came  the  chorus,  in  which  the 
high  sweet  voices  of  the  women  soared  like  the  larks 
and  the  thrushes : 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  3 

"Jim,  crack  corn,  I  doan'  keer, 
Jim,  crack  corn,  I  doan'  keer, 
Jim,  crack  corn,  I  doan'  keer. 
Ole — marster's — gone — away  ! " 

The  last  line  was  a  wail ;  but  the  first  lines  were 
full  of  a  devil-may-care  music,  which  made  some  of 
the  women  drop  their  bundles  of  wheat,  and,  picking 
up  their  striped  cotton  skirts,  they  danced  a  break- 
down nimbly.  A  dozen  little  negro  boys  carried 
buckets  of  water  about  the  field  to  refresh  the 
thirsty  harvesters,  and  one  negro  girl,  with  her  arms 
folded  and  a  great  pail  on  her  head  of  whisky  and 
water  with  mint  floating  around  in  it,  was  vocif- 
erously greeted  whenever  she  appeared,  and  a  drink 
from  the  gourd  in  the  pail  invariably  caused  a  fresh 
outburst  of  song. 

Hot  and  bright  as  the  fields  were,  it  was  not  too 
hot  and  bright  for  these  merry  labourers.  But  there 
was  a  stretch  of  coolness  and  of  shade  on  the  edge 
of  the  woods  where  the  dew  still  sparkled  upon  the 
blackberry-bushes  and  the  grass  and  undergrowth. 
And  in  a  shady  place  under  a  hawthorn  bush  sat  a 
black-eyed  little  boy  with  a  dog  across  his  knees. 
They  had  for  company  a  Latin  book,  which  the  boy 
made  a  lazy  pretence  of  studying,  wearing  all  the 
time  a  sulky  scowl.  But  when  he  found  that  he 
could  put  the  book  to  a  better  use  than  studying,  by 
propping  the  dog's  head  upon  it  so  as  to  bring  the 
tawny,  intelligent  eyes  upon  a  level  with  his  own,  the 
scowl  cleared  away.  His  face,  then,  though  full  of 
archness  and  sweetness,  was  not  altogether  happy. 
He  gazed  into  the  dog's  eyes  wistfully,  for,  although 
many  people  gazed  upon  him  kindly,  no  creature  in 


4  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

the  wide  world  ever  gazed  upon  him  so  affectionately 
as  this  one  poor  brute  of  a  dog. 

Presently,  while  lost  in  a  sort  of  dream,  listening 
to  the  song  of  the  reapers  as  it  melted  away  in  the 
distance,  and  following  up  pretty,  idle  fancies  that 
danced  before  him  like  white  butterflies  in  the  sun, 
he  heard  a  crashing  behind  him  of  a  burly  figure 
making  its  way  through  the  leaves  and  grass,  and 
an  ungainly  man,  past  middle  age,  and  blear-eyed  and 
snuffy,  appeared  before  him.  In  the  pure,  fresh  morn- 
ing light  he  looked  coarser,  more  dissipated  than 
could  be  imagined;  but  when  his  voice  rang  out,  not 
even  the  wood  bird's  note  put  it  to  shame — it  was  so 
clear,  so  rich,  so  sweet.  That  voice  was  the  one 
charm  left  to  him. 

"Well,  Lewis,  my  lad,"  he  cried  out,  "how  are 
you  and  my  old  friend  Horatius  Flaccus  getting  on 
this  deuced  fine  morning  ?  Drat  the  dog — you  al- 
ways have  him  about." 

"  You  shouldn't  drat  him,  Mr.  Bulstrode,"  an- 
swered Lewis,  "because  old  Service  likes  Latin  bet- 
ter than  I  do.  He  has  scarcely  blinked  since  I  put 
the  book  in  his  paw." 

"  Dogs  do  like  Latin,"  answered  Bulstrode,  with 
a  wink  ;  "  let  me  show  you,  sir." 

Lewis  burst  out  laughing  at  the  idea  that  dogs 
had  any  taste  for  the  classics;  and  the  dog,  with- 
drawing his  head,  showed  his  teeth  in  a  snarl. 

"  Snarl  away,  my  friend,"  said  Bulstrode  jovially, 
seating  himself,  with  awkward  comfort,  on  the  grass. 
"I  lay  I'll  make  you  change  your  tune.  Do  you 
know — "  Bulstrode's  pronunciation  was  not  equal  to 
the  music  of  his  voice,  and  he  said  "  D'ye  know." 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  5 

"  D'ye  know,  boy,  that  the  two  great  powers  to 
charm  women  and  dogs  are  the  eye  and  the  voice  ? 
Now,  as  for  my  eyes — Lord,  I  never  had  any  charm 
in  'em,  and  the  life  I've  led  wasn't  calculated  to  give 
'em  any.  But  see  if  that  damned  dog  doesn't  stop 
his  growling  when  I  give  him  some  first-class  Latin." 

Bulstrode  took  the  book  and  began  to  read  sono- 
rously one  of  the  longer  odes.  Lewis,  whose  black 
eyes  were  wonderfully  expressive,  was  laughing  to 
himself,  the  more  so  when,  as  Bulstrode  rolled  out 
the  lines  of  rhythmic  beauty,  old  Service  ceased  his 
growling  and  appeared  to  be  listening  gravely.  Bul- 
strode put  out  his  hand  and  drew  the  dog  toward 
him,  and  in  a  little  while  Service  was  resting  his  head 
on  Bulstrode's  knee  and  blinking  placidly  and  sol- 
emnly into  his  face. 

"  There  you  have  it !  "  cried  Bulstrode,  slapping 
the  book  together.  "  Let  me  tell  you,  Lewis,  in  the 
old  days,  when  my  face  was  fresh  and  fair,  I  used  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  river  bank  at  Cambridge,  re- 
citing these  odes  to  a  gang  of  undergraduates,  and 
sometimes  there'd  be  a  don  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
crowd.  Don't  know  what  a  don  is  ?  Well,  I'll  tell 
you  some  day.  And  the  reason  my  Latin  and  Greek 
are  so  much  better  than  my  English  is  because  I 
learned  my  English  from  the  vulgar.  But  my  Latin 
and  Greek  I  learned  from  the  very  finest  old  Latin 
and  Greek  gentlemen  that  ever  were — the  cream  of 
the  company,  boy;  and  that  and  my  voice  are  about 
the  only  decent  things  left  about  me." 

"  And  your  philosophy,"  said  Lewis,  hesitating — 
"that  great  book  you're  helping  Mr.  Skelton  on." 

"  Philosophy — fudge  !  "  cried  Bulstrode  carelessly. 


6  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

"  There's  Skelton  now,  shut  up  in  that  musty  library 
yonder" — jerking  his  thumb  toward  the  Deerchase 
house — "  grinding  away  at  his  system  of  philosophy ; 
and  here  am  I,  the  true  philosopher,  enjoying  this 
infernally  glorious  harvest  and  these  picturesque 
black  people,  that  I  never  can  get  used  to,  no  matter 
how  long  I  live  in  this  odd  country.  D'ye  know  what 
Kant  says  ?  Of  course  you  don't;  so  I'll  tell  you. 
He  says  that  two  men,  like  him  over  yonder" — Bui- 
strode  jerked  his  thumb  again  over  his  shoulder-^ 
"and  your  humble  servant,  engaged  in  pursuing  ab. 
stract  philosophy,  are  like  two  idiots  who  want  a 
drink  of  milk  ;  so  one  milks  a  post,  while  the  other 
holds  a  sieve.  That's  philosophy,  my  dear  boy." 

This  puzzled  Lewis  very  much,  who  was  never 
theless  accustomed  to  hearing  Bulstrode  pooh-pooh, 
ing  philosophy,  while  Mr.  Skelton  always  uttered  the 
word  reverently. 

"You  see  yourself,"  cried  Bulstrode,  giving  hi* 
battered  hat  a  rakish  cock,  "  Skelton  is  a  fine  exam- 
ple of  what  enormous  study  and  research  will  bring 
a  man  to,  and  I'm  another  one.  He  has  been  study- 
ing for  twenty  years  to  write  the  greatest  book  that 
ever  was  written.  He's  spent  the  twenty  best  years 
of  his  life,  and  he's  got  fifteen  thousand  books  stored 
away  in  that  grand  new  library  he  has  built,  and  he's 
bought  me,  body  and  soul,  to  help  him  out,  and  the 
result  will  be — he'll  never  write  the  book !  " 

Bulstrode  slapped  his  hand  down  on  his  knee  as 
he  brought  out  the  "never"  in  a  ringing  voice;  the 
dog  gave  a  single  loud  yelp,  and  Lewis  Pryor  jumped 
up  in  surprise. 

"  You  don't  mean  it,  Mr.  Bulstrode ! "  he  cried 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  7 

breathlessly,  for  he  had  been  bred  upon  the  expecta- 
tion that  a  great  work  was  being  then  written  in  the 
Deerchase  library  by  Mr.  Skelton,  and  when  it  was 
given  to  the  world  the  planet  would  stop  revolving 
for  a  time  at  least.  Bulstrode  had  an  ungovernable 
indiscreetness,  and,  the  string  of  his  tongue  being 
loosed,  he  proceeded  to  discuss  Skelton's  affairs  with 
great  freedom,  and  without  regarding  in  the  least  the 
youth  of  his  companion. 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean  it.  Skelton's  milking  the  post, 
and  he's  hired  me  to  hold  the  sieve.  He's  been  pre- 
paring— preparing — preparing  to  write  that  book  ; 
and  the  more  he  prepares,  the  more  he  won't  write 
it.  Not  that  Skelton  hasn't  great  powers ;  you 
know  those  things  he  wrote  at  the  university,  partic- 
ularly that  '  Voices  of  the  People  '  ?  Well,  Skelton's 
got  a  bogie  after  him — the  bogie  of  a  too  brilliant 
promise  in  his  youth.  He's  mortally  afraid  of  the 
young  fellow  who  wrote  '  Voices  of  the  People.'  But 
he'll  carry  out  that  other  project  of  his — no  doubt  at 
all  about  that." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Lewis,  full  of  curiosity, 
though  not  altogether  comprehending  what  he  heard. 

''•  Oh,  that  determination  of  his  to  ruin  Jack  Blair 
and  his  wife,"  replied  Bulstrode,  flapping  away  a  fly. 
"  Mrs.  Blair,  you  know,  jilted  the  Great  Panjandrum 
fifteen  years  ago,  and  ran  away  with  Blair ;  and 
they'll  pay  for  it  with  every  acre  of  land  and  stick 
of  timber  they've  got  in  the  world !  " 

Lewis  pondered  a  moment  or  two. 

"  But  I  thought  Mr.  Skelton  and  the  Blairs  were 
so  friendly  and  polite,  and —  " 

"  O    Lord,    yes.      Deuced    friendly    and    polite ! 


g  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

That's  the  way  with  gentlefolks — genteel  brutality — 
shaking  hands  and  smiling  one  at  the  other,  and  all 
the  time  a  knife  up  the  sleeve.  Don't  understand 
gentlefolks  myself." 

This  rather  shocked  Lewis,  who  was  accustomed 
to  hearing  everybody  he  knew  called  a  gentleman, 
and  the  title  insisted  upon  tenaciously. 

"Why,  Mr.  Bulstrode,"  he  said  diffidently,  "ain't 
you  a  gentleman  ?" 

"  Lord  bless  you,  no  !  "  cried  Bulstrode  loudly  and 
frankly.  "  My  father  kept  a  mews,  and  my  mother — 
God  bless  her !  — I'll  say  no  more.  But  look  you, 
Lewis  Pryor,"  said  he,  rising,  and  with  a  sort  of  rude 
dignity,  "  though  I  be  not  a  gentleman  here"  slap- 
ping his  body,  "  I'm  a  gentleman  here"  tapping  his 
forehead.  "I'm  an  aristocrat  from  my  chops  up- 
ward." 

Lewis  had  risen  too.  He  thought  this  was  very 
queer  talk,  but  he  did  not  laugh  at  it,  or  feel  con- 
tempt for  Bulstrode,  who  had  straightened  himself 
up,  and  had  actually  lost  something  of  his  plebeian 
aspect. 

"  And,"  he  added  with  an  ill-suppressed  chuckle, 
"  I'm  a  gentleman  when  I'm  drunk.  You  see,  as  long 
as  I'm  sober  I  remember  the  mews,  and  my  father  in 
his  black  weepers  driving  the  hearse,  and  the  delight 
I  used  to  feel  when  the  young  sprigs  of  the  nobility 
and  gentry  at  the  university  would  ask  me  to  their 
wine  parties  to  hear  me  spout  Ovid  and  Anacreon, 
for  they  knew  I  wasn't  a  gentleman.  But  when  I'm 
drunk,  I  only  remember  that  I  was  a  'double  first'; 
that  every  Greek  and  Latinist  in  England  knows 
Wat  Bulstrode's  name ;  and  when  this  precious  philos- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  g 

opher  Skelton  was  scouring  the  universities  to  find 
a  man  to  help  him  out  with  his — ha !  ha ! — great  work, 
he  could  not  for  love  or  money  get  any  better  man 
than  ragged,  drunken,  out-at-elbows  Wat  Bulstrode. 
I  tell  you,  boy,  when  I'm  drunk  I'm  a  king!  I'm 
more — I'm  a  gentleman !  There  is  something  in 
Greek  which  provokes  an  intolerable  thirst.  You 
say  that  Latin  is  dry ;  so  it  is,  so  it  is,  my  boy — very 
dry  and  musty ! "  and  then  Bulstrode,  in  a  rich, 
sweet,  rollicking  voice,  as  delicious  as  his  speaking 
voice,  trolled  out  the  fag  end  of  a  song  that  echoed 
and  re-echoed  through  the  green  woods: 

"  I  went  to  Strasburg,  when  I  got  drunk, 
With  the  most  learned  Professor  Brunck. 
I  went  to  Wortz,  where  I  got  more  drunken, 
With  the  more  learned  Professor  Bruncken." 

Bulstrode  had  quite  forgotten  the  boy's  presence. 
Lewis  gazed  at  him  with  wide,  innocent  boyish  eyes. 
It  was  rather  a  tipsy  age,  and  to  be  a  little  convivial 
was  considered  a  mark  of  a  liberal  spirit,  but  Lewis 
was  astute  enough  to  see  that  this  was  not  the  sort 
of  gentlemanly  joviality  which  prevailed  in  the  age 
and  in  the  country.  The  song  of  the  reapers  was 
still  mellowly  heard  in  the  distance ;  their  scythe 
blades  glittered  in  the  sun,  the  merriment,  the  plenty, 
the  beauty  and  simplicity  of  the  scene  was  like  Ar- 
cady;  but  the  contrast  between  what  Nature  had 
made,  and  what  man  had  made  of  himself,  in  Bul- 
strode, was  appalling. 

Suddenly,  the  careless  delight  expressed  in  Bul- 
strode's  look  and  manner  vanished,  and  a  strange 
passion  of  despair  overcame  him. 


10 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


•*  But  then,  there  is  the  waking  up — the  waking  tip 
— great  God  !  "  he  shouted.  "  Then  I  see  that  I'm, 
after  all,  nothing  but  a  worthless  dog;  that  this  man 
Skelton  owns  me;  that  I  never  will  be  anything  but 
worthless  and  learned  and  drunken  ;  that  I'm  no  bet- 
ter than  any  other  hanger-on,  for  all  my  Greek  and 
Latin  !  However,"  he  added,  stuffing  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  as  suddenly  laying  aside  his  tragic  air, 
"  there  never  was  such  a  hanger-on.  Upon  my  soul, 
it's  a  question  whether  Richard  Skelton  owns  Wat  Bui- 
strode,  or  Wat  Bulstrode  and  the  books  own  Richard 
Skelton.  But  look'ee  here,  boy,  I  had  almost  forgot 
you,  and  the  dog  too.  I  don't  envy  Richard  Skelton. 
No  man  pursues  his  enemy  with  gaiety  of  heart.  He 
has  spent  more  money  in  ruining  Jack  Blair  than 
would  have  made  ten  good  men  prosperous;  and, 
after  all,  it's  that  passion  of  Blair's  for  horse  racing 
that  will  ruin  him  in  the  end.  Gad !  I  don't  know 
that  I'm  any  worse  than  Skelton,  or  any  other  man 
I  know. — Why,  hello!  what  the  devil — " 

This  last  was  involuntarily  brought  out  by  Skel- 
ton himself,  who  at  that  moment  stood  before  him. 
Lewis  had  seen  Skelton  coming,  and  had  vainly 
tugged  at  Bulstrode's  coat-tails  without  any  effect. 

Whether  Skelton's  philosophy  commanded  respect 
or  not,  his  personality  certainly  did.  He  was  about 
medium  height,  lean,  dark,  and  well  made.  Also, 
whether  he  was  handsome  or  not  the  world  had  not 
yet  decided  during  all  his  forty  years  of  life ;  but 
certain  it  was  few  men  could  look  handsome  beside 
him.  His  eyes,  though,  were  singularly  black  and 
beautiful,  like  those  of  the  boy  standing  by  him.  He 
was  in  riding  dress,  and  held  a  little  whip  in  his 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  IT 

hand ;  he  had  ridden  out  to  the  harvest  field,  and 
then  dismounted  and  left  his  horse  while  he  walked 
through  the  stubble  and  clover.  He  had  overheard 
much  that  Bulstrode  had  last  said,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
invincible  composure,  his  face  showed  a  silent  rage 
and  displeasure.  Bulstrode  and  Lewis  knew  it  by 
the  sultry  gleam  of  his  black  eyes.  Bulstrode  in- 
stantly lost  his  air  of  independence,  and  all  of  his 
efforts  to  retain  it  only  resulted  in  a  half-cowed 
swagger. 

4<  Bulstrode,"  said  Skelton  in  a  cool  voice,  "how 
often  have  I  recommended  you  not  to  discuss  me  or 
my  affairs  ? " 

"  Don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  blustered  Bulstrode,  his 
hands  still  in  his  pockets.  Both  of  them  had  realised 
the  boy's  presence.  As  Bulstrode  really  loved  him, 
he  hated  to  be  cowed  before  Lewis.  The  boy  was 
looking  downwards,  his  eyes  on  the  ground  ;  the  dog 
nestled  close  to  him.  Both  Skelton  and  Bulstrode 
remained  silent  for  a  moment  or  two. 

"  You  know,"  said  Skelton  after  a  pause,  "  I  am 
not  a  man  to  threaten." 

"  Yes,  by  Jove,  I  do,"  answered  Bulstrode,  break- 
ing into  a  complaining  whine.  "  I  don't  know  why 
it  is,  Skelton,  that  you  can  always  bully  me ;  unless 
it's  because  you're  a  gentleman,  and  I  ain't.  You 
dashed  patricians  always  have  us  plebes  under  the 
hack — always,  always.  The  fellows  that  went  ahorse- 
back were  always  better  than  those  who  went  afoot- 
back.  Sometimes,  by  George,  I  wish  I  had  been  born 
a  gentleman ! " 

Bulstrode's  collapse  was  so  rapid  and  complete 
that  wrath  could  not  hold  against  him.  Skelton 


I2  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

merely  said  something  about  an  unbridled  tongue 
being  a  firebrand,  and  then,  turning  to  Lewis,  said  : 

"The  harvest  is  the  black  man's  holiday.  Come 
with  me,  and  we  will  see  him  enjoy  it." 

Skelton's  tone  to  Lewis  was  peculiar ;  although 
his  words  were  cold,  and  his  manner  reserved,  his 
voice  expressed  a  strange  fondness.  Lewis  felt  sorry 
for  Bulstrode,  standing  alone  and  ashamed,  and  after 
he  had  gone  a  little  way  by  Skelton's  side  he  turned 
back  and  ran  toward  Bulstrode,  holding  out  his  book. 

"  Won't  you  have  my  Horace  for  company,  Mr. 
Bulstrode?"  he  cried ;  "  though  I  believe  you  know 
every  word  in  it.  But  a  book  is  company — when  one 
can't  get  a  dog,  that  is." 

"  Yes,  boy,"  answered  Bulstrode,  taking  one  hand 
out  of  his  pocket.  "  Old  Horace  and  I  will  forget 
this  workaday  world.  We  have  had  a  good  many 
bouts  in  our  time,  Horatius  Flaccus  and  I.  The  old 
fellow  was  a  good  judge  of  wine.  Pity  he  didn't 
know  anything  about  tobacco."  He  began  speaking 
with  a  sigh,  and  ended  with  a  grin. 

Skelton  and  Lewis  turned  off  together,  and  walked 
along  the  edge  of  the  field.  The  fresh,  sweet  scent 
of  the  newly  cut  wheat  filled  the  air;  the  clover 
blossoms  that  grew  with  the  wheat  harboured  a  cloud 
of  happy  bees ;  over  the  land  hung  a  soft  haze.  Lewis 
drank  in  delightedly  all  of  the  languid  beauty  of  the 
scene,  and  so  did  Skelton  in  his  quiet,  controlled  way. 

Lewis  shrewdly  suspected  that  the  reason  Skelton 
carried  him  off  was  to  get  him  out  of  Bulstrode's  way, 
for  although  Bulstrode  was  nominally  his  tutor,  and 
had  plenty  of  opportunities  for  talking,  he  was  not 
always  as  communicative  as  on  that  morning.  The 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  j^ 

boy  was  much  in  awe  of  Skelton.  He  could  not  al- 
together make  out  his  own  feelings  in  the  matter. 
He  knew  of  no  relationship  between  them,  and 
thought  he  knew  he  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Pryor, 
in  his  lifetime  a  tutor  of  Skelton's.  He  called  Skel- 
ton "  Mr.  Skelton,"  and  never  remembered  to  have 
had  a  caress  from  him  in  all  his  life.  But  he  never 
looked  into  Skelton's  eyes,  which  were  precisely  like 
his  own,  that  he  did  not  feel  as  if  some  strong  and 
secret  bond  united  them. 

Meanwhile,  Bulstrode  stood  in  his  careless  atti- 
tude, looking  after  them,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Skelton's 
straight,  well  set-up  figure. 

"There  you  go,"  he  apostrophised.  "  Most  men 
think  they  could  advise  the  Almighty ;  but  you, 
Richard  Skelton,  think  yourself  the  Lord  Almighty 
Himself !  Unbridled  tongue,  indeed !  I  lay  odds 
that  I'll  make  you  write  that  sixth  section  of  your 
Introduction  over  again  before  this  day  is  out.  I 
know  a  weak  spot  in  your  theory  that  knocks  that 
chapter  into  flinders,  and  I've  been  saving  it  up  for 
just  such  an  occasion  as  this.  But  go  your  way,  and 
I'll  go  mine." 

"  Fair  and  free  is  the  king's  highway  ! " 
he  sang,  loudly  and  sweetly. 


CHAPTER   II. 

IT  is  impossible  for  anything  in  this  tame,  latter- 
day  age  to  be  compared  with  the  marvels  of  fifty, 
sixty,  seventy  years  ago.  The  worn-out,  tired  race 
declines  to  be  awed,  or  delighted,  or  startled,  any 
more.  "  Old  Wonder  is  dead."  People  have  lost  the 
sense  of  admiration.  It  is  the  price  paid  for  civilisa- 
tion. 

But  it  was  not  always  so.  Fifty  years  ago  the 
romantic,  the  interesting,  even  the  mysterious,  still 
existed.  Luxury  was  rare,  and  life  was  so  hard  and 
poor  to  most  people  on  this  continent  that  imagina- 
tion had  to  be  called  in  to  make  it  even  tolerable. 
Superlatives  had  not  gone  out  of  fashion,  and  there- 
fore it  is  quite  just  to  apply  the  words  grand,  mag- 
nificent, superb,  to  Deerchase.  True,  if  that  deadly 
enemy  of  superlatives,  comparison,  be  levelled  against 
it,  there  is  no  doubt  the  irreverent  modern  would 
smile ;  for  what  the  fresh,  wonder-loving  people  in 
1820  thought  ineffably  splendid,  the  jaded,  sated 
people  of  19 —  would  think  cheap,  tawdry,  not  worth 
speaking  of,  after  all.  So  that  the  pictures  in  the 
main  hall  at  Deerchase  would  be  pronounced  medi- 
ocre, the  park  rather  ambitious  than  imposing,  the 
stables  and  the  establishment  generally  insignificant 

(14) 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY.  15 

compared  with  those  of  the  merchant  princes  of  to- 
day. But  the  owner  of  Deerchase  had  this  immense 
advantage  over  the  rich  people  of  to-day — not  the 
whole  possessions  of  all  of  them  could  command  half 
the  awe,  delight,  and  distinction  that  Deerchase  did  in 
its  time.  And  if  the  power  of  places  to  awe  and  de- 
light be  gone,  what  shall  be  said  of  the  lost  power  of 
individuals  ?  But  in  1820  hero  worship  survived  with 
many  other  beautiful  and  imaginative  things  that  the 
world  has  outgrown ;  and  Richard  Skelton,  Esquire, 
was  an  object  of  envy  and  admiration  to  the  whole 
county,  and  to  half  the  State  of  Virginia  besides. 

For  Richard  Skelton,  Esquire,  was  certainly  born 
with  a  golden,  not  a  silver,  spoon  in  his  mouth.  In 
his  childhood  his  dark  beauty  and  a  certain  proud, 
disdainful  air,  natural  to  him,  made  him  look  like  a 
little  prince.  In  those  days  Byron  was  the  poet ; 
and  the  boy,  with  his  great  fortune,  his  beauty,  his 
orphanhood,  his  precocious  wit  and  melancholy,  was 
called  a  young  Lara.  As  he  grew  older,  there  were 
indications  in  him  of  strange  mental  powers,  and  a 
cool  and  determined  will  that  was  perfectly  unbreak- 
able. He  brooded  his  youth  away  (in  these  degen- 
erate days  it  would  be  said  he  loafed)  sadly  and 
darkly  in  the  library  at  Deerchase.  Old  Tom  Shap- 
leigh,  his  guardian,  who  feared  neither  man  nor 
devil,  and  who  was  himself  a  person  of  no  mean 
powers,  always  felt,  when  his  ward's  dark,  inscru- 
table eyes  were  fixed  upon  him,  a  ridiculous  and  awk- 
ward inferiority — the  more  ridiculous  and  awkward 
because  old  Tom  really  had  accomplished  a  good 
deal  in  life,  while  Richard  Skelton  could  not  possibly 
have  accomplished  anything  at  the  very  early  age 


jg  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

when  he  was  perfectly  commanding,  not  to  say  pat- 
ronising, to  his  guardian.  Old  Tom  did  not  take 
charge  of  the  great  Skelton  property  and  the  strange 
Skelton  boy  for  pure  love.  The  profits  of  managing 
such  a  property  were  considerable,  and  he  was  the 
very  best  manager  of  land  and  negroes  in  all  the 
region  about.  But  the  Skelton  boy,  from  the  time 
he  was  out  of  round  jackets,  always  assumed  an  air 
toward  his  guardian  as  if  the  guardian  were  merely 
his  agent.  This  gave  old  Tom  much  saturnine  amuse- 
ment, for  he  was  one  of  those  men  whose  sense  of 
humour  was  so  sharp  that  he  could  smile  over  his 
own  discomfiture  at  the  hands  of  a  haughty  stripling, 
and  could  even  laugh  grimly  at  the  burden  of  a  silly 
wife,  which  he  had  taken  upon  himself. 

For  those  who  like  life  with  a  good  strong  flavour 
to  it,  Skelton  and  old  Tom  Shapleigh,  and  the  people 
around  them,  were  not  devoid  of  interest.  They  be- 
longed to  a  sturdy,  well-fed,  hard  riding,  hard  drink- 
ing, landed  aristocracy  that  was  as  much  rooted  to 
the  land  as  the  great  oaks  that  towered  in  the  virgin 
woods.  All  landowners  are  more  or  less  bound  to 
the  soil ;  but  these  people  were  peculiarly  so,  be- 
cause they  had  no  outside  world.  There  was  no  great 
city  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  and  their 
journeys  were  merely  a  slight  enlargement  of  their 
orbit.  Their  idea  of  seeing  the  world  was  a  trip  in 
the  family  coach  to  the  Springs,  where  they  met 
exactly  the  same  people,  bearing  the  same  names, 
that  they  had  left  at  home.  This  fixity  and  monot- 
ony produced  in  them  an  intensity  of  provincialism, 
a  strength  of  prejudice,  hardly  to  be  conceived  of 
now.  They  were  only  a  few  generations  removed 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  jy 

from  an  English  ancestry,  which  in  this  new  land 
prayed  daily,  "  God  bless  England,  our  sweet  native 
country  !  "  Feudalism,  in  the  form  of  a  mild  and 
patriarchal  slave  system,  was  still  strong  with  them 
when  it  had  gone  to  decay  in  Europe.  The  brighter 
sun  had  warmed  their  blood  somewhat ;  they  were 
more  fiery  and  more  wary  than  their  forefathers. 
They  were  arrogant,  yet  simple-minded,  and  loved 
power  more  than  money.  They  also  loved  learning, 
after  their  fashion,  and  kept  the  roster  full  at  William 
and  Mary  College.  But  their  learning  was  used  to 
perpetuate  their  political  power.  By  means  of  put- 
ting all  their  men  of  parts  into  politics,  they  managed 
to  wage  successfully  an  unequal  fight  for  power  dur- 
ing many  generations.  The  same  kind  of  equality 
existed  among  them  as  among  the  Spanish  grandees, 
who  call  each  other  by  their  nicknames  as  freely  as 
peasants,  but  are  careful  to  give  an  outsider  all  his 
titles  and  dignities.  There  was  a  vast  deal  of  tinsel 
in  their  cloth  of  gold  ;  their  luxuries  were  shabbily 
pieced  out,  and  they  were  not  quite  as  grand  as  they 
fancied  themselves.  But,  after  all,  there  is  something 
imposing  in  a  system  which  gives  a  man  his  own  land, 
his  house  built  of  his  own  timber,  his  bricks  made  of 
his  own  red  clay,  his  servants  clothed  and  shod  by 
his  own  workmen,  his  own  blacksmiths,  wheelwrights, 
carpenters,  shoemakers — in  short,  a  little  kingdom  of 
which  he  is  the  sovereign.  Naturally  it  makes  him 
arrogant,  but  it  also  makes  him  independent ;  and 
where  each  man  stands  upon  punctilio  everybody  is 
likely  to  be  polite.  So  they  had  few  quarrels,  but 
such  as  they  had  were  deadly.  The  hair-splitting, 
the  subtleties  of  the  fin  du  siecle  were  unknown,  un- 


jg  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

dreamed  of,  by  them.  Everything  was  simple  and 
direct — love,  hate,  fear,  remorse,  and  joy.  God  and 
the  devil  were  close  to  every  man.  Their  lives  were 
fixed,  and  had  the  continuity  of  an  epic,  instead  of 
the  fragmentary,  disjointed  lives  that  the  people  of 
to-day  are  living.  And  as  they  were  necessarily 
obliged  to  spend  all  their  mortal  days  together,  they 
knew  each  other  and  each  other's  generations  like  a 
book,  and  this  effectually  estopped  pretension  of  all 
sorts.  It  was  a  picturesque,  gay,  pleasure-loving 
life,  its  Arcadian  simplicity  sometimes  interrupted  by 
tragedies,  but  it  only  lasted  until  the  railroad  and 
the  telegraph  brought  all  the  world  within  speaking 
distance. 

The  rivers,  broad  and  shallow  and  salt,  that  made 
in  from  the  ocean  bays,  were  the  spots  wisely  chosen 
for  the  homesteads.  The  plantations  extended  back 
into  a  slightly  rolling  country,  but  every  "p'int,"  as 
the  negroes  called  it,  was  the  site  for  a  house. 
At  Deerchase,  from  the  long  stone  porch  covered 
with  climbing  tea  roses,  which  faced  the  shining 
river,  half  a  dozen  rambling  brick  houses  on  their 
respective  "  p'ints  "  could  be  seen.  The  farthest  off 
was  only  a  mile  up  the  river  as  the  crow  flies,  but 
the  indentations  of  the  stream  made  it  more,  and 
when  one  undertook  to  go  by  land,  the  multitude  of 
gates  to  be  opened  between  different  properties  and 
the  various  windings  and  turnings  to  get  there  at  all 
made  it  seem  a  dozen  miles  at  least.  This  last  place 
was  Newington,  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jack  Blair 
lived,  and  which  Bulstrode  so  freely  predicted  would 
be  in  the  market  soon  on  account  of  a  grudge  owed 
the  Blairs  by  the  Great  Panjandrum — Richard  Skel- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  ig 

ton,  Esquire.  The  next  place  to  Deerchase  was  Bel- 
field,  where  old  Tom  Shapleigh  and  that  wonderful 
woman,  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  lived  with  their  daughter 
Sylvia,  who  had  inherited  more  than  her  father's 
brains  and  less  than  her  mother's  beauty.  Only  a 
shallow  creek,  running  into  a  marsh,  divided  Deer- 
chase  and  Belfield,  and  it  was  not  twenty  minutes' 
walk  from  one  house  to  the  other.  This  nearness 
had  been  very  convenient  to  old  Tom  in  managing 
the  Skelton  property,  but  it  had  not  conduced  to 
any  intimacy  between  guardian  and  ward.  Richard 
Skelton  was  not  much  above  Mr.  Shapleigh's  shoul- 
der when  he  took  to  asking  to  be  excused  when  his 
guardian  called.  Old  Tom  resented  this  imperti- 
nence as  an  impetuous,  full-blooded,  middle-aged 
gentleman  might  be  expected  to.  He  stormed  up 
and  down  the  Deerchase  hall,  nearly  frightened  Bob 
Skinny,  the  black  butler,  into  fits,  blazed  away  at  the 
tutor,  who  would  go  and  plead  with  the  boy  through 
the  keyhole  of  a  locked  door. 

"  My  dear  Richard,  come  out  and  see  your  guard- 
ian; Mr.  Shapleigh  particularly  wants  to  see  you." 

"  And  I  particularly  don't  want  to  see  Mr.  Shap- 
leigh ;  so  go  away  and  leave  me,"  young  Skelton 
would  answer  in  his  smooth,  soft  voice. 

As  there  was  nothing  for  old  Tom  to  do  unless 
he  kicked  the  door  down,  he  would  go  home  fuming, 
and  have  to  content  himself  with  writing  very  fierce 
and  ungrammatical  letters,  of  which  the  spelling  was 
reckless,  but  the  meaning  plain,  to  his  ward,  which 
were  never  answered.  Then  old  Tom  would  begin  to 
laugh — it  was  so  comical — and  the  next  time  he  met 
the  boy  there  would  be  that  same  haughty  reserve 


20  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

on  Skelton's  part,  at  which  his  guardian  did  not 
know  whether  to  be  most  angry  or  amused.  He 
was  philosophic  under  it,  though,  and  would  say : 

"  Look  at  the  tutors  I've  got  for  him,  begad  !  and 
every  man-jack  of  them  has  been  under  the  hack  of 
that  determined  little  beggar  from  the  start.  And 
when  a  man,  woman,  or  child  can  get  the  upper  hand 
of  one  who  lives  in  daily,  hourly  contact,  why,  you 
might  just  as  well  let  'em  go  their  own  gait.  Dam- 
me, /  can't  do  anything  with  the  arrogant  little  up- 
start ! " 

No  expense  was  spared  in  tutors,  and,  as  each 
successive  one  had  a  horse  to  ride  and  a  servant  to 
wait  on  him,  and  was  treated  politely  by  young  Skel- 
ton  as  long  as  he  was  let  alone,  the  tutors  never 
complained,  and  old  Tom  was  quite  in  the  dark  as 
to  his  ward's  real  acquirements.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  fre- 
quently urged  Mr.  Shapleigh  to  go  over  to  Deer- 
chase  and  demand  categorically  of  Richard  Skelton 
exactly  how  much  Latin  and  mathematics  he  knew, 
but  old  Tom  had  tried  that  caper  unsuccessfully  sev- 
eral times.  He  did  find  out,  though — or  rather  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  found  out  for  him — that  Skelton  had  fallen 
desperately  in  love  with  his  cousin,  Elizabeth  Armi- 
stead,  who  was  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse ;  and,  al- 
though Elizabeth  was  known  to  have  a  weakness  for 
Jack  Blair,  her  whole  family  got  after  her  and  bul- 
lied her  into  engaging  herself  to  the  handsome  strip- 
ling at  Deerchase.  Skelton  was  then  twenty.  Eliza- 
beth herself  was  only  seventeen,  but  seventeen  was 
considered  quite  old  in  those  days.  This  affair  an- 
noyed Mrs.  Shapleigh  very  much,  whose  daughter 
Sylvia,  being  about  ten  years  old  at  the  time,  she 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  2I 

looked  forward  to  seeing  established  as  mistress  of 
Deerchase  by  the  time  she  was  eighteen. 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  his  better  half  complained, 
"  why  don't  you  go  over  to  Deerchase  and  tell  Rich- 
ard Skelton  up  and  down,  that  if  he  has  fallen  in 
love  with  Elizabeth  Armistead  he  has  got  to  fall  out 
again  ? " 

"  My  love,  if  I  wanted  him  to  fall  out  of  love  I'd 
let  him  get  married.  There's  no  such  specific  for 
love  as  matrimony,  madam." 

"It  is  not,  indeed,  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  answered 
madam,  who,  though  weak  in  logic  was  not  deficient 
in  spirit,  "and  I'm  sure  that's  what  my  poor  dear 
mother  used  to  tell  me  when  I  thought  I  was  in  love 
with  you.  But  just  look  at  those  Armisteads  !  Not 
a  penny  among  them  scarcely,  and  plotting  and  plan- 
ning ever  since  Richard  Skelton  was  born  to  get 
him  for  Elizabeth  !  " 

"  Gadzooks,  ma'am,  in  that  case  the  Armisteads 
are  too  clever  for  all  of  us,  because  they  must  have 
been  planning  the  match  at  least  three  years  before 
Elizabeth  was  born." 

"Now,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  how  silly  you  talk!  Of 
course  they  couldn't  have  planned  it  before  Eliza- 
beth was  born.  But  it  does  seem  a  hard  case  that 
Richard  Skelton  should  be  carried  off  right  under 
our  noses,  and  Sylvia  here  quite  ten  years  old,  and 
I  with  my  heart  set  on  seeing  her  Mrs.  Skelton,  of 
Deerchase.  But  those  Armisteads  are  a  designing 
pack.  You  may  take  my  word  for  it." 

"  I  do,  my  life,  I  do,"  cried  old  Tom  with  a  wink. 
Meanwhile  there  was  no  doubt  that  young  Skelton 
was  indeed  violently  in  love  with  his  cousin  Eliza- 


22  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

beth.  It  was  his  first  passion,  and  he  pursued  it 
with  an  indescribable  fierceness.  Elizabeth,  who 
had  both  beauty  and  spirit,  was  a  little  frightened  at 
the  intensity  of  his  love  and  jealousy.  She  had  been 
engaged  to  Jack  Blair,  of  Newington,  who  was  ac- 
counted a  good  match  and  was  a  gallant,  lovable 
fellow  enough,  but,  dazzled  by  Skelton's  personality 
and  position  and  money,  and  beset  by  her  family, 
she  threw  her  lover  over.  They  had  one  last  inter- 
view, when  Blair  left  her  weeping  and  wringing  her 
hands,  while  he  threw  himself  on  his  horse  and  gal- 
loped home  with  a  face  as  black  as  midnight. 

Elizabeth  could  not  quite  forget  Blair,  and  Skel- 
ton  was  too  subtle  not  to  see  it.  He  lavished  con- 
tempt on  Blair,  calling  him  a  great  hulking  country 
squire,  who  cared  for  nothing  but  a  screeching  run 
after  the  hounds  or  a  roaring  flirtation  with  a  pretty 
girl.  He  quite  overlooked  a  certain  quality  of  at- 
traction about  Blair  which  made  women  love  him, 
children  fondle  him,  and  dogs  fawn  upon  him.  Skel- 
ton  waked  up  to  it,  though,  one  fine  morning,  when 
he  found  that  Elizabeth  and  Blair  had  decamped 
during  the  night  and  were  then  on  their  way  to 
North  Carolina  to  be  married. 

How  Skelton  took  it  nobody  knew.  He  shut 
himself  up  in  the  library  at  Deerchase,  and  no  one 
dared  to  come  near  him  except  Bob  Skinny,  who 
would  tiptoe  softly  to  the  door  once  in  a  while  with 
a  tray  and  something  to  eat.  There  was  a  feeling 
in  the  county  as  if  Abingdon  Church  had  suddenly 
tumbled  down,  or  the  river  had  all  at  once  turned 
backwards,  when  it  was  known  that  Richard  Skelton 
had  been  actually  and  ignominiously  jilted.  Mrs. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  23 

Shapleigh  had  a  good  heart,  and,  in  spite  of  her 
plans  for  Sylvia,  felt  sorry  for  Skelton. 

"  Do,  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  she  pleaded,  "  go  over  and 
see  poor  Richard  Skelton,  and  tell  him  there's  as 
good  fish  in  the  sea  as  ever  were  caught." 

"  Zounds,  madam,"  answered  old  Tom,  with  en- 
ergy, "  I'm  no  poltroon,  but  I  wouldn't  trust  myself 
in  the  Deerchase  library  with  that  message  for  ten 
thousand  dollars !  He'd  murder  me.  You'd  be  a 
widow,  ma'am,  as  sure  as  shooting." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  I  hope,  if  I  ever  am  a  widow, 
I  shall  submit  cheerfully  to  the  Lord's  will ;  and  I 
shall  have  as  handsome  a  monument  put  up  over  you 
as  there  is  in  the  county." 

"And  I'll  do  the  same  by  you,  my  dear,  if  you 
should  precede  me.  I'll  have  one  big  enough  to  put 
on  it  the  longest  epitaph  you  ever  saw;  and  I'll  tell 
my  second  wife  every  day  of  the  virtues  of  my 
first." 

"  Oh,  oh,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  why  will  you  start  such 
dreadful  subjects !  "  cried  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  in  great 
distress. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh were  not  as  comfortable  as  most  married  cou- 
ples. Unlike  most,  though,  in  thirty  years  it  had  not 
been  determined  which  was  the  better  man.  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  had  the  mighty  weapon  of  silliness,  which 
has  won  many  matrimonial  battles.  She  never  knew 
when  she  was  beaten,  and  consequently  remained 
unconquered.  Old  Tom,  having  married,  like  the 
average  man,  because  the  woman  tickled  his  fancy, 
accepted  with  great  good  humour  the  avalanche  of 
daily  disgust  that  he  had  brought  upon  himself,  and 


24  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

joked  over  his  misfortune,  instead  of  cutting  his 
throat  about  it. 

But  as  the  wind  is  tempered  to  the  shorn  lamb, 
Mr.  Shapleigh  was  blessed  with  a  slight  deafness, 
which  varied  according  to  whether  he  did  or  did  not 
want  to  hear  what  Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  saying.  At 
particular  stages  in  an  argument,  or  at  the  mention 
of  certain  expenses,  he  always  became  as  deaf  as  a 
post.  He  did  not  believe  in  cures  for  deafness,  and 
held  on  to  his  beloved  infirmity  like  a  drowning  man 
to  a  plank. 

Thirty  years  of  bickering  rather  endeared  them 
to  each  other,  particularly  as  neither  had  a  bad  heart. 
But  old  Torn  sometimes  thought,  with  a  dash  of 
tragedy,  that  had  the  visitation  of  God  come  upon 
him  in  the  shape  of  a  foolish  daughter,  he  would 
have  been  tempted  to  cut  his  throat,  after  all.  Syl- 
via, however,  was  far  from  foolish,  and  Mr.  Shap- 
leigh sometimes  felt  that  Fate  had  treated  him  shab- 
bily in  making  his  daughter  as  much  too  clever  as  his 
wife  was  too  silly. 

Mrs.  Shapleigh  sent  for  Bob  Skinny,  that  he  might 
describe  Skelton's  sufferings  to  her.  Bob,  who  con- 
sidered the  master  of  Deerchase  the  first  person  in 
the  universe,  and  the  butler  of  Deerchase  the  sec- 
ond, gloried,  after  the  manner  of  his  race,  in  the 
magnitude  of  everything — even  their  misfortunes — 
that  befell  the  Skeltons. 

"  Miss  Belindy,  Mr.  Skelton  " — this  was  an  in- 
novation in  title;  but  Bob  Skinny  considered  Skel- 
ton much  too  grand  to  be  spoken  of  simply  as  "  Marse 
Richard  " — "  Mr.  Skelton  he  is  de  mos'  distrusted 
you  ever  see.  He  ain'  eat  a  mou'full  for  two 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  25 

weeks  Jars'  Sad'day,  an'  he  ain'  sleep  a  wink  for  a 
mont'! " 

"  La,  Bob,  he'll  be  ill  if  he  doesn't  eat  or  sleep." 

"  De  Skeltons  dey  kin  go'  dout  eatin'  an'  sleepin' 
more'n  common  ev'yday  folks,"  responded  Bob,  with 
dignity. 

"  Maybe,"  said  Mrs.  Shapleigh  sympathetically, 
"  a  course  of  tansy  tea  would  cure  him  if  his  spirits 
are  so  bad ;  and  if  he'd  put  some  old  nails  in  a  stone 
jar  and  pour  some  water  on  them,  and  take  it  three 
times  a  day,  it  is  as  good  a  tonic  as  he  could  find. 
And  if  he  won't  go  out  of  the  library  to  take  any 
exercise,  if  you'd  persuade  him  to  swing  a  flat-iron 
about  in  either  hand,  it  would  expand  his  lungs  and 
do  for  exercise." 

None  of  these  suggestions,  however,  reached 
young  Skelton,  shut  up  in  the  library,  raging  like  a 
wild  creature. 

In  a  month  or  two,  however,  he  appeared  again, 
looking  exactly  as  he  always  had  looked,  and  nobody 
dared  to  cast  a  sympathising  glance  upon  him. 

About  that  time  a  political  pamphlet  appeared 
anonymously.  It  made  a  tremendous  sensation.  It 
was,  for  its  day,  wildly  iconoclastic.  It  pointed  out 
the  defects  in  the  social  system  in  Virginia,  and  pre- 
dicted, with  singular  force  and  clearness,  the  uproot- 
ing of  the  whole  thing  unless  a  change  was  inaugu- 
rated from  within.  It  showed  that  navigation  and 
transportation  were  about  to  be  revolutionised  by 
steam,  and  that,  while  great  material  prosperity  would 
result  for  a  time,  it  meant  enormous  and  cataclysmar 
changes,  which  might  be  destructive  or  might  be 
made  almost  recreative. 


26  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

This  pamphlet  set  the  whole  State  by  the  ears. 
On  the  hustings,  in  the  newspapers,  in  private  and 
in  public,  it  was  eagerly  discussed.  Even  the  pul- 
piteers took  a  shy  at  it.  The  authorship  was  laid  at 
the  door  of  every  eminent  man  in  the  State  and  some 
outside,  and  it  suddenly  came  out  that  it  was  written 
by  the  black-eyed,  disappointed  boy  locked  up  in 
the  Deerchase  library. 

The  commotion  it  raised — the  storm  of  blame 
and  praise — might  well  have  turned  any  head.  Its 
literary  excellence  was  unquestioned.  Skelton  was 
considered  an  infant  Junius.  But  if  it  produced  any 
effect  upon  him,  nobody  knew  it,  for  there  was  not 
the  smallest  elation  in  his  manner,  or,  in  fact,  any 
change  whatever  in  him. 

"  That  pamphlet  ends  my  guardianship,"  remarked 
old  Tom  Shapleigh  shrewdly,  "although  the  boy  is 
still  ten  months  off  from  his  majority." 

Mr.  Shapleigh  had  been  vainly  trying  to  get  young 
Skelton  to  attend  the  University  of  Virginia,  but  at 
this  time,  without  consulting  his  guardian,  Skelton 
betook  himself  to  Princeton.  To  say  that  old  Tom 
was  in  a  royal  rage  is  putting  it  very  mildly.  He 
felt  himself  justified  in  his  wrath,  but  was  careful  to 
exercise  it  at  long  range — in  writing  furious  letters, 
to  which  Skelton  vouchsafed  no  reply.  Neverthe- 
less old  Tom  promptly  cashed  the  drafts  made  on 
him  by  his  ward.  At  Princeton  Skelton  apparently 
spent  his  time  reading  French  novels,  smoking,  and 
studying  problems  in  chess ;  but  at  the  end  of  two 
years  it  was  discovered  that  he  had  made  a  higher 
average  than  had  ever  been  made  by  any  man  at  the 
university  except  Aaron  Burr.  As  if  content  with 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  27 

this,  however,  Skelton  left  without  taking  his  degree. 
But  about  that  time  he  published  a  pamphlet  under 
his  own  name.  The  title  was  Voices  of  the  People. 
Its  success  was  vast  and  immediate,  even  surpassing 
that  of  its  predecessor.  He  was  now  twenty-two 
years  old,  his  own  master,  graceful,  full  of  distinc- 
tion in  his  air  and  manner.  The  greatest  things 
were  expected  of  him. 


CHAPTER   III. 

So  far  Skelton  was  a  magnificent  promise.  He 
remained  at  Deerchase  a  year,  which  he  spent  chiefly 
in  improving  the  house  and  grounds,  which  were  al- 
ready beautiful.  This  gave  him  a  very  good  excuse 
for  keeping  strictly  to  himself.  Then  he  determined 
to  go  to  Europe.  His  old  flame,  Mrs.  Jack  Blair, 
now  lived  at  Newington,  and  every  time  she  looked 
out  of  her  windows  she  could  see  the  noble  brick 
pile  of  Deerchase.  The  house  was  a  fine  old  colo- 
nial mansion,  with  walls  three  feet  thick,  and  numbers 
of  large  and  lofty  rooms.  Skelton  added  to  it  with 
great  taste,  and  had  his  grounds  laid  out  by  a  famous 
landscape  gardener.  Newington  was  very  shabby ; 
and  if  Mrs.  Blair  had  been  an  envious  woman — 
which  she  was  not — she  might  have  suffered  many 
pangs  because  of  the  contrast  between  the  two  places. 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  declared  that  Skelton's  only  object 
in  improving  Deerchase  was  to  spite  Mrs.  Blair. 
But  it  certainly  spited  Mrs.  Shapleigh  dreadfully. 
She  was  seized  with  a  desire  that  Belfield  should 
rival  Deerchase.  Now,  the  Shapleighs  were  very 
well  off,  and  Belfield  was  a  large  and  handsome 
country  house,  but  there  was  no  rivalling  Deerchase 
in  the  matter.  Skelton  had  dollars  where  old  Tom 

(28) 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


29 


Shapleigh  had  dimes.  Whenever  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
would  start  the  subject  of  improving  Belfield,  Mr. 
Shapleigh  would  become  so  totally  and  obstinately 
deaf  that  there  was  no  making  him  hear  at  all ;  so, 
as  Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  a  much-indulged  woman,  she 
went  to  work  on  her  own  hook  to  do  landscape  gar- 
dening, and  to  make  Belfield  as  smart  as  Deerchase. 
The  effect  was  fearful  and  wonderful.  A  Chinese 
pagoda  was  clapped  on  to  one  wing  of  the  Belfield 
house.  This  was  meant  for  a  tower.  Much  red  vel- 
vet furniture  was  bought,  and  old  Tom  paid  the  bills, 
grinning  sardonically  as  he  did  it. 

"  I  declare,  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  Mrs.  Shapleigh  be- 
wailed, "you've  got  no  feeling  for  your  own  flesh 
and  blood.  There's  nothing  more  likely  than  that 
Sylvia  will  one  day  marry  Richard  Skelton,  and  then 
if  we  don't  furnish  up  some  and  improve  the  place, 
everybody  will  say  she  never  was  accustomed  to  any- 
thing until  she  went  to  Deerchase." 

Mr.  Shapleigh  declined  to  weep  over  this  terrible 
prospect.  Then  came  the  ornamentation  of  the 
grounds.  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  idea  of  decorative  art 
was  a  liberal  supply  of  fresh  paint  of  every  hue  of 
the  rainbow.  She  had  an  elaborate  affair  of  knobs 
and  lattice  work,  painted  a  vivid  green,  put  up  in  the 
river  between  Deerchase  and  Belfield,  in  place  of  the 
old  water  fence  of  posts  and  rails.  A  fence  of  some 
sort  was  necessary  to  keep  the  cattle  from  wading 
down  the  salt  marshes  and  following  the  river  shore 
into  forbidden  fields.  The  cows  came  tramping  plac- 
idly down  the  marshy  creek  until  they  got  to  the 
wonderful  water  fence,  where  they  turned  tail  and 
trotted  rapidly  off,  their  frightened  calves  bleating 
3 


30  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

after  them.  The  picturesque,  unpainted  bridge  across 
the  creek  was  metamorphosed  into  a  highly  ornate 
construction  with  a  summer  house  in  the  middle, 
expressly  designed  for  Sylvia,  who  was  then  in  short 
frocks,  and  Skelton  to  do  their  courting  in  eventu- 
ally. Never  was  there  such  general  overhauling  and 
painting.  The  pigeon  house  was  painted  red  and 
the  turnstiles  blue.  When  everything  was  done,  and 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  felicitating  herself  that  Richard 
Skelton  could  no  longer  have  the  satisfaction  of 
thinking  Deerchase  was  unsurpassed,  Skelton  could 
not  look  toward  Belfield  without  laughing,  nor  could 
anybody  else,  for  that  matter. 

Skelton  spent  a  full  year  at  Deerchase,  and  just 
as  he  had  brought  the  house  and  grounds  to  perfec- 
tion this  sudden  idea  of  going  to  Europe  possessed 
him.  It  was  a  great  undertaking  in  those  days.  He 
had  nobody  to  consult,  nobody  knew  he  was  going, 
and  nobody  would  grieve  for  him  except  some  of  the 
older  house  servants.  Although  Skelton  was  an  in- 
dulgent master,  he  never  exchanged  a  word  with  his 
negroes,  who  were  entirely  managed  by  overseers. 
The  afternoon  before  he  left  he  was  on  the  river  in 
his  boat.  It  was  a  cloudy  September  day.  Usually 
the  scene  was  full  of  light  and  glow — the  broad, 
bright  river,  the  cheerful  homesteads,  his  own  beau- 
tiful Deerchase,  and  not  even  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  had 
been  able  to  spoil  the  fair  face  of  Nature  with  her 
miscalled  ornamentation ;  but  on  that  day  it  was 
dull  and  inexpressibly  gloomy.  A  grey  mist  folded 
the  distant  landscape.  The  river  went  sullenly  to 
the  sea.  Afar  off  in  the  marshes  could  be  heard  the 
booming  of  the  frogs — the  most  doleful  of  sounds — 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY.  3! 

and  the  occasional  fugitive  cry  of  birds  going  south 
rang  shrilly  from  the  leaden  sky. 

Skelton  sailed  up  and  down,  almost  up  to  New- 
ington,  and  down  again  to  Lone  Point — a  dreary, 
sandy  point,  where  three  tall  and  melancholy  pine 
trees  grew  almost  at  the  water's  edge,  and  where  the 
river  opened  widely  into  the  bay.  He  felt  that 
strange  mixture  of  sadness  and  exultation  which 
people  felt  in  those  far-off  days  when  they  were 
about  to  start  for  distant  countries.  There  was  not 
a  soul  in  sight,  except  in  the  creek  by  the  water  fence ; 
Sylvia  Shapleigh  was  standing  barefooted,  with  her 
skirts  tucked  up.  Her  shoes  and  stockings  lay  on 
the  bank.  She  had  on  a  white  sunbonnet,  much 
beruffled,  and  was  holding  something  down  in  the 
water  with  a  forked  stick. 

She  was  then  about  twelve  years  old,  with  a  deli- 
cate, pretty,  thoughtful  face,  and  beautiful  grey  eyes. 
So  unlike  was  she  to  her  father  and  mother  that  she 
might  have  been  a  changeling. 

Skelton  guessed  at  once  what  she  was  after.  She 
was  catching  the  crabs  that  came  up  to  feed  in  these 
shallow,  marshy  creeks;  but  after  pinning  her  crab 
down  she  was  evidently  in  a  quandary  how  to  get 
at  him.  As  Skelton  watched  her  with  languid  inter- 
est she  suddenly  gave  a  faint  scream,  her  sunbon- 
net fell  off  into  the  water,  and  she  stood  quite  still 
and  began  to  cry. 

Skelton  ran  the  boat's  nose  ashore  within  twenty 
yards  of  her,  and,  jumping  out,  went  to  her,  splash- 
ing through  the  water. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  screamed  poor  Sylvia,  "  my  foot — he's 
got  my  foot !  " 


32  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

Skelton  raised  her  small  white  foot  out  of  the 
water,  and  in  half  a  minute  the  crab  was  dexterously 
"  spancelled "  and  thrown  away,  but  there  was  a 
cruel  mark  on  the  child's  foot,  and  blood  was  com- 
ing. She  looked  at  Skelton  with  wide,  frightened 
eyes,  crying  bitterly  all  the  time. 

"  Come,  my  dear,"  said  Skelton,  soothingly,  "  let 
me  pick  you  up  and  carry  you  home." 

"  I  d-d-don't  want  to  go  home,"  wailed  Sylvia. 

"  But  something  must  be  done  for  your  foot, 
child." 

"Then  take  me  to  Deerchase,  and  let  Mammy 
Kitty  do  it." 

Skelton  was  puzzled  by  the  child's  unwillingness 
to  go  home.  But  Sylvia  soon  enlightened  him. 

"If  I  g-go  home  mamma  will  scold  me,  and  she 
will  cry  over  me,  and  make  me  keep  on  crying,  and 
that  will  make  my  head  ache;  and  if  I  can  get 
s-something  done  for  my  foot — " 

"  But  won't  your  mother  be  frightened  about 
you  if  I  take  you  to  Deerchase?"  asked  Skelton. 

"  No — ooo — oo  !  "  bawled  Sylvia,  still  weeping  ; 
"she  lets  me  stay  out  until  sundown.  And  she'll 
make  such  a  fuss  over  my  foot  if  I  go  home ! " 

Determination  was  expressed  in  every  line  of  Syl- 
via's tearful,  pretty  face.  Skelton  silently  went  back 
to  the  shore,  got  her  shoes  and  stockings,  went  to 
his  boat  and  brought  it  up,  Sylvia  meanwhile  keep- 
ing up  a  furious  beating  of  the  water  with  her  forked 
stick  to  frighten  the  crabs  off.  Skelton  lifted  her  in 
the  boat,  and  they  sailed  along  to  the  Deerchase 
landing.  Sylvia  wiped  her  feet  on  the  curtain  of  her 
sunbonnet,  put  on  her  stockings  and  one  shoe,  and 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


33 


nursed  the  injured  foot  tenderly.  Skelton  lifted  her 
out  on  the  little  stone  pier  he  had  had  built,  and 
then  proceeded  to  take  down  the  sail  and  tie  the 
boat. 

"I  think,"  said  Sylvia  calmly,  " you'll  have  to 
carry  me  to  the  house." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  let  me  send  for  my  caliche 
and  pair  for  you  ?"  gravely  asked  Skelton. 

"Oh,  no,"  cried  Sylvia  briskly,  and  Skelton  with- 
out a  word  picked  her  up  and  walked  across  the 
grassy  lawn  to  the  house.  She  was  very  light,  and, 
except  for  flapping  her  wet  sunbonnet  in  his  face, 
he  had  no  objection  whatever  to  her.  He  carried 
her  up  the  steps  into  the  hall,  and  then  turned  her 
over  to  Mammy  Kitty,  who  wrapped  her  foot  in 
wet  cabbage-leaves.  Skelton  went  to  the  library. 
Presently  Bob  Skinny's  woolly  head  was  thrust  in 
the  door. 

"  Please,  sah,  Mr.  Skelton,  de  young  lady  say  will 
you  please  to  come  d'yar  ?  " 

Skelton,  smiling  at  himself,  rose  and  went  back 
to  the  hall.  Sylvia  was  perched  on  one  foot,  like  a 
stork. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "if  you'll  give  me  your  arm 
I  can  walk  around  and  look  at  the  pretty  things. 
Whenever  I've  been  here  with  mamma  she  has  always 
asked  so  many  questions  that  I  didn't  like  to  ask  any 
myself." 

"  You  may  ask  any  questions  you  like,"  replied 
Skelton,  still  smiling.  He  never  remembered  ex- 
changing a  word  with  the  child  before.  He  had 
taken  for  granted  that  she  was  her  mother's  own 
daughter,  and  as  such  he  had  no  wish  to  cultivate  her. 


34 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


But  Sylvia  was  not  at  all  like  her  mother.  She 
limped  around  the  hall,  looking  gravely  at  the  por- 
traits. 

The  Skeltons  were  a  handsome  family,  if  the  por- 
traits could  be  believed.  They  were  all  dark,  with 
clear-cut  faces  and  high  aquiline  noses  like  Skel- 
ton's,  and  they  were  all  young. 

"  We  have  some  portraits,  you  know,"  remarked 
Sylvia,  "but  they  are  all  old  and  ugly.  Now,  all  of 
these  are  of  pretty  little  girls  and  boys  or  handsome 
young  ladies." 

"  The  Skeltons  are  not  a  long-lived  family,"  said 
Skelton.  "  They  generally  die  before  forty.  Here 
is  one — Janet  Skelton — a  little  girl  like  you.  She 
died  at  eighteen." 

Sylvia  turned  her  grey  eyes  full  of  a  limpid  green 
light  towards  him  pityingly. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  live  long?" 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Skelton,  smiling. 

"I  think,"  said  Sylvia  calmly,  after  a  while,  "if 
I  were  grown  up  I  should  like  to  live  here." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Skelton,  who  at  twenty- 
two  thought  the  twelve-year-old  Sylvia  a  toddling 
infant ;  "  as  I  intend  to  be  an  old  bachelor,  you  may 
come  and  be  my  little  sister.  You  may  have  my 
mother's  room — here  it  is." 

He  opened  a  door  close  by,  and  they  entered  a 
little  sitting  room,  very  simple  and  old-fashioned, 
and  in  no  way  corresponding  to  the  rest  of  the 
house.  It  had  whitewashed  walls  above  the  wain- 
scoting, and  the  furniture  was  in  faded  yellow 
damask. 

"  I  intend  to  let  this  room  remain  as  it  is,  to  re- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  35 

mind  me  that  I  was  once  a  boy,  for  this  is  the  first 
room  I  remember  in  the  Deerchase  house." 

Sylvia  looked  around  with  calmly  contemptuous 
eyes. 

"  When  I  come  to  Deerchase  to  live  I  shall  make 
this  room  as  fine  as  the  rest.  But  I  must  go  home 
now.  I  can  get  my  shoe  on,  and  perhaps  mamma 
won't  notice  that  I  limp  a  little.  You'd  better  take 
me  in  the  boat,  so  I  can  get  back  to  the  house  from 
the  river  shore." 

Skelton,  who  thought  it  high  time  she  was  re- 
turning, at  once  agreed.  As  he  lifted  her  out  of  the 
boat  on  the  Belfield  shore  a  sudden  impulse  made 
him  say : 

"  Sylvia,  can  you  keep  a  secret  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  can,"  answered  Sylvia  promptly. 

"  Then — I  am  going  away  to-morrow  morning,  to 
be  gone  a  year,  perhaps  longer.  This  is  the  last 
sail  I  shall  take  upon  the  river  for  a  long,  long 
time." 

Sylvia's  eyes  were  full  of  regret.  Although  she 
had  seen  Skelton  at  a  distance  nearly  every  day  of 
her  life  when  he  was  at  Deerchase,  and  had  also  seen 
him  upon  the  rare  occasions  that  visits  were  ex- 
changed between  the  two  places,  yet  he  had  all  the 
charm  of  a  new  and  dazzling  acquaintance  to  her. 
She  never  remembered  speaking  a  word  with  him 
before,  but  there  was  a  delightful  intimacy  between 
them  now,  she  thought.  She  expressed  her  regret  at 
his  going  so  volubly  that  Skelton  was  forced  to 
laugh ;  and  she  wound  up  by  flinging  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  kissing  him  violently.  At  this 
Skelton  thought  it  time  to  leave.  His  last  glimpse 


36  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

of  Sylvia  was  as  she  stood  swinging  her  wet,  white 
sunbonnet  dolefully  on  the  sandy  shore. 

That  night  a  terrible  storm  came  up.  It  flooded 
all  the  low-lying  fields,  swept  over  the  prim  gardens 
at  Deerchase,  and  washed  away  a  part  of  the  bridge 
between  Deerchase  and  Belfield.  When,  at  daylight 
in  the  morning,  Skelton,  with  Bob  Skinny,  left  Deer- 
chase,  everything  was  under  water,  and  trees  and 
shrubs  and  fences  and  hedges  bore  witness  of  the 
fury  of  the  wind  and  the  rain.  Skelton's  last  view 
of  Deerchase  was  a  gloomy  one.  He  meant  then  to 
be  gone  a  year ;  he  remained  away  fifteen  years. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MEANWHILE  things  went  on  placidly  enough 
around  the  silent  and  uninhabited  Deerchase.  The 
negroes  worked  the  plantation  under  the  overseer's 
management,  and  the  house  was  well  cared  for,  as 
well  as  the  grounds.  Every  year  there  was  an  alarm 
that  Skelton  was  coming  home,  but  he  never  came. 
At  last,  like  a  thunderclap,  came  the  news  that  he 
was  married  to  an  English  woman  of  rank  and  wealth. 

Sylvia  Shapleigh  was  then  eighteen,  pretty  and 
full  of  romance.  That  one  interview  with  Skelton 
had  been  with  her  the  dividing  line  between  child- 
hood and  womanhood.  She  brooded  over  it,  and  as 
she  grew  older  she  fell  in  love  with  an  imaginary 
Skelton,  who  was  to  come  home  and  make  her  the 
grandest  lady  in  the  county.  She  began  to  look 
upon  Deerchase  as  her  own,  and  could  picture  vividly 
to  herself  her  gay  and  splendid  life  there.  She  was 
haughty  to  the  young  squires  who  openly  admired 
her,  and  secretly  declared  herself  meat  for  their  mas- 
ters. She  was  proud  and  spirited  to  the  last  degree, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  in  her  arrogance  and  inexperi- 
ence, that  Nature  had  destined  her  for  something 
great ;  and  what  could  be  greater  than  to  be  Mrs. 
Richard  Skelton  ? 

(37) 


38  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

When  the  news  came  of  Skelton's  marriage,  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  was  luckily  away  from  home  on  a  visit  of 
several  days.  Sylvia,  on  hearing  of  the  marriage, 
rose  and  went  to  her  own  room,  where  she  gave  way 
to  a  passion  of  disappointment  as  acute  as  if  the 
bond  between  Richard  Skelton  and  herself  were  a 
real  one,  instead  of  the  mere  figment  of  a  child's 
imagination.  It  made  no  difference  that  it  was 
wholly  baseless  and  fanciful.  In  that  simple  and 
primitive  age,  romantic  young  things  like  Sylvia  had 
plenty  of  time  and  opportunity  to  cultivate  senti- 
ment. The  only  really  splendid  thing  she  ever  saw 
in  her  life  was  Deerchase,  and  she  saw  it  whenever 
she  chose  to  turn  her  eyes  toward  it.  She  knew 
nothing  of  the  power  of  new  scenes  to  make  one 
forget  the  old  ones,  and  the  extreme  prettiness  of  the 
story  that  she  made  up  for  Skelton  and  herself 
charmed  her.  But  then  came  this  sudden  disillu- 
sion. In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  her  castle  in  Spain 
fell,  to  rise  no  more. 

But  Sylvia,  in  common  with  most  people  who 
possess  thinking  and  feeling  powers  of  a  high  order, 
had  also  a  great  fund  of  sound  good  sense,  which 
came  to  her  rescue.  She  learned  to  smile  at  her  own 
childish  folly,  but  it  was  rather  a  sad  and  bitter  smile  : 
the  folly  was  childish,  but  the  pain  was  startlingly 
real.  She  did  not  like  to  look  at  Deerchase  after 
that,  because  it  brought  home  to  her  how  great  a 
fool  she  had  been.  And  then,  having  lost  that  illu- 
sion— sad  to  say — she  had  no  other  to  take  its  place. 
Nothing  is  more  intolerable  to  a  young,  imaginative 
soul  than  to  be  turned  out  of  the  fairy  kingdom  of 
fancy.  It  is  all  theirs — palaces,  smiling  courtiers, 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


39 


crown  jewels,  and  all — and  they  revel  in  a  royal  sum- 
mer time.  Then,  some  fine  day,  the  pretty  dream 
melts  away  and  leaves  a  black  abyss,  and  then  Com- 
mon Sense,  the  old  curmudgeon,  shows  himself;  and 
when,  as  in  Sylvia's  case,  the  palace  would  be  re- 
built, the  flattering  courtiers  recalled,  the  recollection 
of  the  pain  of  its  destruction  is  too  keen.  Driven  by 
common  sense,  Sylvia  concluded  to  live  in  the  real 
world,  not  in  the  imaginary  one.  This  wise  resolve 
was  a  good  deal  helped  by  the  grotesque  form  the 
same  picture  that  had  been  in  her  mind  took  in  Mrs. 
Shapleigh's.  Sylvia  could  not  help  laughing  any 
more  than  Mr.  Shapleigh  could  when  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh  was  all  for  his  sending  a  letter  to  Skelton, 
reproaching  him  for  his  "  shameful  treatment  of 
Sylvia." 

The  worthy  woman  had  got  all  the  particulars  of 
that  odd,  childish  visit  out  of  Sylvia,  and  bewailed 
herself  as  follows : 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  poor,  unlucky  creature  as 
I  !  Here  for  eighteen  years  I've  had  but  one  single, 
solitary  idea  in  my  head,  and  that  was  to  see  Sylvia 
mistress  of  Deerchase ;  and  all  through  your  fault, 
Mr.  Shapleigh,  in  not  throwing  them  together  when 
you  were  Richard  Skelton's  guardian,  I  am  a  heart- 
broken and  disappointed  woman.  But  now  that  I've 
had  this  awful  blow,  it's  as  little  as  you  can  do  to 
improve  the  house  and  put  me  up  a  new  wing,  as  I've 
often  asked  you." 

"  Put  you  up  a  new  swing  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Shapleigh, 
becoming  very  deaf.  "  Now,  Belinda,  what  on  earth 
do  you  want  with  a  swing  at  your  time  of  life  ?  You'll 
be  wanting  a  skipping-rope  next." 


40 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


Mr.  Shapleigh's  deafness  was  so  obstinate  re- 
garding the  proposed  new  wing  that  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh  was  unable  to  make  him  understand 
her. 

Within  six  months  came  another  startling  piece  of 
information.  Skelton's  wife  had  died,  and  had  left 
him  a  great  fortune  upon  condition  that  he  did  not 
marry  again. 

This  nearly  drove  Mrs.  Shapleigh  crazy,  and  Mrs. 
Shapleigh,  in  turn,  nearly  drove  Mr.  Shapleigh  crazy. 
Between  the  propriety  and  excellence  of  Mrs.  Skel- 
ton's dying  and  the  abominable  means  she  took  to 
prevent  Sylvia  from  marrying  Skelton — for,  of  course, 
the  whole  scheme  was  levelled  at  Sylvia — Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh was  at  a  loss  whether  to  consider  the  dead 
woman  as  her  best  friend  or  her  greatest  enemy. 
Sylvia  by  that  time  had  grown  sensible.  She  had 
learned  in  that  first  ridiculous  yet  terrible  experi- 
ence the  dangers  of  her  splendid  imagination  and 
intense  emotions,  and  resolved  upon  learning  to 
govern  both — and  Sylvia  had  a  good  strong  will  of 
her  own.  She  even  smiled  as  she  thought  how  tre- 
mendously she  had  concerned  herself,  at  the  time  of 
Skelton's  marriage,  about  what  really  did  not  con- 
cern her  in  the  least. 

Still  Skelton  did  not  come  home.  The  old  ex- 
pectations of  his  coming  intellectual  achievements 
had  by  no  means  vanished.  He  had  given  such 
extraordinary  promise  !  But  there  was  time  enough 
— he  was  not  yet  thirty.  He  was  known  to  be  study- 
ing at  the  German  universities.  He  still  kept  up  his 
interest  in  his  Virginia  affairs,  and,  although  on  the 
other  side  of  the  water,  he  even  had  a  fine  racing 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  4I 

stable  organised  under  the  charge  of  Miles  Light- 
foot,  who  was  a  cross  between  a  gentleman  and  a 
"leg."  Racing  was  the  sport  in  those  days,  and  the 
Campdown  Jockey  Club  had  just  been  started  upon 
an  imposing  basis.  Skelton  became  a  liberal  sub- 
scriber, and  Miles  Lightfoot  was  understood  to  have 
carte  blanche  in  the  great  affair  of  making  Skelton's 
stable  the  finest  one  in  the  State.  Whatever  Skelton 
did  he  must  do  better  than  anybody  else,  and,  since 
his  large  access  of  fortune,  money  was  less  than  ever 
an  object  to  him.  Skelton  always  heard  with  pleas- 
ure of  his  successes  on  the  turf,  and  Miles  Lightfoot 
found  out  by  some  occult  means  that  his  own  excel- 
lent place  and  salary,  from  a  professional  point  of 
view,  depended  upon  Skelton's  horses  always  beating 
Jack  Blair's.  For  Skelton  never  forgot  a  friend  or 
an  enemy. 

At  first  this  rivalry  between  Skelton's  stable  and 
what  Jack  Blair  modestly  called  his  "  horse  or  two  " 
was  a  joke  on  the  courthouse  green  and  the  race 
track.  But  when  ten  years  had  passed,  and  Jack 
Blair  had  been  steadily  losing  money  all  the  time  on 
account  of  matching  his  horses  against  Skelton's,  it 
had  ceased  to  be  a  joke.  Blair  had  more  than  the 
average  man's  pugnacity,  and  having  early  suspected 
that  Skelton  meant  to  ruin  him,  it  only  aroused  a 
more  dogged  spirit  of  opposition  in  him.  Old  Tom 
Shapleigh  in  the  beginning  urged  Blair  to  draw  out 
of  the  fight,  but  Blair,  with  a  very  natural  and  human 
aggressiveness,  refused.  Elizabeth  at  first  shared 
Blair's  confidence  that  he  could  beat  Skelton's  horses 
as  easily  as  he  had  run  away  with  Skelton's  sweet- 
heart, but  she  soon  discovered  her  mistake.  Blair 


42  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

was  a  superb  farmer.  He  had  twelve  hundred  acres 
under  cultivation,  and  every  year  the  bags  of  wheat 
marked  "  Newington  "  commanded  a  premium  in  the 
Baltimore  market.  But  no  matter  how  many  thousand 
bushels  of  wheat  Blair  might  raise,  that  "horse  or  two" 
ate  it  all  up. 

There  were  two  Blair  children,  Hilary  and  little 
Mary.  Elizabeth  Blair  was  full  of  ambition  for  her 
boy.  He  was  to  be  educated  as  his  father  had  been, 
first  at  William  and  Mary,  afterwards  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Virginia.  But  she  discovered  that  there  was 
no  money  either  to  send  the  boy  to  school  or  to  em- 
ploy a  tutor  at  home.  Mrs.  Blair  bore  this,  to  her, 
dreadful  privation  and  disappointment  with  cour- 
age, partly  born  of  patience  and  partly  of  a  woman's 
natural  vanity.  Blair  never  ceased  to  impress  upon 
her  that  since  Skelton  chose  to  harbour  his  revenge 
all  those  years,  that  he — Blair — could  not  refuse  to 
meet  him,  particularly  as  he  had  carried  off  the  prize 
matrimonial  in  the  case.  Blair  had  the  most  win- 
ning manner  in  the  world.  When  he  would  tip  his 
wife's  chin  up  with  his  thumb,  and  say,  "  Hang  it, 
Bess,  I'll  meet  Skelton  on  the  race  track,  in  the 
hunting  field,  anywhere  he  likes,  and  take  my  chances 
with  him  as  I  did  before :  I  had  tremendous  odds 
against  me  then,  but  Fortune  favoured  me,"  Eliza- 
beth would  feel  an  ineffable  softness  stealing  over 
her  towards  her  husband.  Not  many  wives  could 
boast  of  that  sort  of  gallantry  from  their  husbands. 
Blair  was  not  disposed  to  underrate  his  triumph 
over  Skelton.  Every  defeat  of  his  "  horse  or 
two "  was  met  by  a  debonair  laugh,  and  a  re- 
minder, "  By  Jove,  his  horses  may  leg  it  faster 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


43 


than  mine,  but  I  beat  him  in  a  better  race  and 
for  a  bigger  stake  than  any  ever  run  on  a  race 
course !  " 

This  keeping  alive  of  the  old  rivalry  contained 
in  it  a  subtile  flattery  to  Elizabeth.  But  Blair  him- 
self was  well  calculated  to  charm.  He  was  fond  of 
a  screeching  run  after  the  hounds,  as  Skelton  con- 
temptuously said,  but  he  was  a  gentleman  from  the 
crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot.  He  might 
not  give  Hilary  a  tutor,  or  Mary  a  governess,  but  his 
children  never  heard  him  utter  a  rude  word  to  their 
mother  or  anyone  else,  or  saw  him  guilty  of  the 
smallest  gaucherie  in  word  or  deed.  His  negroes 
adored  him,  his  horses  came  at  his  voice,  his  dogs 
disputed  with  his  children  for  the  touch  of  his  hand. 
He  knew  all  the  poetry  and  romance  existing,  and  a 
great  many  other  things  besides. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  understand  why  he  was  the 
pet  and  darling  of  women — for  the  sex  is  discerning. 
Your  true  woman's  man  is  always  a  good  deal  of  a 
man.  This  was  the  case  with  Jack  Blair,  in  spite  of 
his  fatal  fondness  for  a  certain  ellipse  of  a  mile  and 
a  quarter,  upon  which  he  had  lost  more  money  than 
he  cared  to  own  up  to.  But,  at  least,  there  was  no 
deceit  about  Blair.  Elizabeth  often  implored  him  to 
promise  her  never  to  bet  at  the  races,  never  to  bet 
at  cards,  and  a  great  many  other  things ;  but  he 
always  refused.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  I'll  make  no  prom- 
ise I  can't  keep.  I  may  not  be  the  best  husband  in 
the  world,  but  at  least  I've  never  lied  to  you,  and  I 
don't  propose  to  put  myself  in  the  way  of  temptation 
now." 

It  was  true  that  he  had  never  even  used  a  subter- 


44 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


fuge  towards  her.  But  Elizabeth  was  haunted  by  a 
fear  that  Blair  thought  lightly  of  money  obligations, 
and  that  inability  to  pay  was  not,  to  him,  the  terrible 
and  disgraceful  thing  it  was  to  her.  Then,  she  was 
tormented  by  a  perfectly  ridiculous  and  feminine 
jealousy.  For  all  she  was  a  clever  enough  woman, 
in  the  matter  of  jealousy  and  a  few  other  trifles  of 
that  kind  all  women  are  fools  alike.  This  amused 
Blair  hugely,  who  had  a  smile  and  a  soft  word  and  a 
squeeze  of  the  hand  for  every  woman  in  the  county, 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  included,  but  who  was  the  soul  of 
loyalty  to  Elizabeth.  If  only  he  would  give  up 
horse  racing!  for  so  Elizabeth  came  to  think  to  her- 
self when  the  mortgages  multiplied  on  Newington, 
and  after  every  fall  and  spring  meeting  of  the  Jockey 
Club  she  was  called  upon  to  sign  her  name  to  some- 
thing or  other  that  Blair  paid  her  for  in  the  tenderest 
kisses.  But  there  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  fatality 
about  the  whole  thing.  Blair  was  thought  to  be  the 
best  judge  of  horses  in  the  county,  yet  he  rarely  had 
a  good  horse,  and  more  rarely  still  won  a  race. 
Something  always  happened  at  the  last  minute  to 
upset  his  triumph.  Like  all  men  who  are  the  willing 
victims  of  chance,  Blair  was  a  firm  believer  in  luck. 
Everybody  knows,  he  argued,  that  luck  ebbs  and 
flows.  The  more  he  lost  on  the  Campdown  course, 
the  more  he  was  eventually  bound  to  win  on  that 
very  course.  Elizabeth,  with  her  practical  woman's 
wit,  did  not  believe  at  all  in  luck,  but  she  believed  in 
Blair,  which  was  the  same  thing  in  that  case.  The 
county  was  a  great  one  for  racing,  and  at  Abingdon 
Church  every  Sunday,  the  affairs  of  the  Jockey  Club 
were  so  thoroughly  discussed  by  gentlemen  sitting 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY.  45 

around  on  the  flat  tombstones  during  sermon  time, 
that  the  formal  meetings  were  merely  perfunctory. 
This  way  of  turning  church  into  a  club  meeting  sin- 
cerely distressed  the  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Con- 
yers. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MR.  CONYERS  was  one  of  the  county  gentry  by 
birth,  but  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  theory  of  hered- 
ity, as  well  as  tradition,  fell  through  in  his  case. 
The  people  had  been  used  to  jolly  parsons,  who  rode 
to  hounds  and  could  stand  up  to  their  bottles  of  port 
quite  as  well  as  the  laity.  Indeed,  it  was  reported 
that  Mr.  Conyer's  predecessor  upon  occasions  only 
got  to  church  in  time  to  hustle  his  cassock  on  over 
his  hunting  jacket  and  breeches.  But  Conyers  was 
more  soul  and  spirit  than  body.  He  grew  up  tall, 
pale,  slender,  with  but  one  wish  on  earth — to  preach 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  was  an  ascetic  by 
nature — an  ascetic  among  people  whose  tempera- 
ments were  sybaritic,  and  to  whom  nature  and  cir- 
cumstance cried  perpetually,  "Eat,  drink,  and  be 
merry."  They  were  a  very  honest  and  chivalrous 
people,  but  their  spiritual  part  had  been  feebly  de- 
veloped. Religion  to  them  meant  morality.  To 
Conyers  it  meant  morality  and  the  whole  question 
of  man's  relations  to  his  Maker  besides. 

Conyers  fancied  that  when  he  had  begun  his 
scholastic  training  for  the  ministry  he  would  enter 
upon  that  course  of  enlightenment  of  the  soul  for 
which  he  longed.  He  was  cruelly  disappointed. 
He  got  a  great  deal  of  morality  still,  a  little  weak 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


47 


theology,  and  a  general  recommendation  from  his 
ecclesiastical  superiors  not  to  be  too  curious.  He 
was  astute  enough  to  see  that  morality  was  one  thing 
and  religion  another,  but  that  as  long  as  he  main- 
tained a  high  standard  of  personal  behaviour  he 
would  be  allowed  a  fearful  liberty  in  his  beliefs.  It 
was  not  an  age  or  a  place  of  religious  enquiry,  and 
Conyers  found  that  all  the  excellent  young  men  pre- 
pared with  him  for  the  ministry,  were  perfectly  well 
satisfied  with  historical  and  biblical  explanations 
which,  to  him,  appeared  grotesquely  insufficient. 
When  his  soul  craved  a  knowledge  of  the  Christian 
religion  from  its  beginning,  and  when  he  would  have 
studied  it  from  the  point  of  sincere  belief  in  regard 
to  its  scope,  design,  and  its  effect  on  man,  he  was 
expected  to  confine  his  investigations  within  an  in- 
conceivably narrow  range.  Although  knowing  in- 
stinctively the  difference  between  moral  practices 
and  religious  beliefs,  Conyers  was  too  earnest  a  lover 
of  moral  beauty  to  put  faith  in  any  except  a  good 
man,  and  he  early  found  that  some  very  bad  men 
were  the  fountain  head  of  certain  of  his  beliefs.  He 
did  not  lack  either  courage  or  good  parts,  but  he 
lacked  knowledge  dreadfully,  and  there  was  no  foun- 
tain open  to  him.  But  the  seal  of  the  Levite  was 
put  upon  him  at  his  birth  ;  tormented  with  doubts 
longings,  and  terrible  questionings,  he  must  still 
preach  the  Word.  He  kept  his  burning  thoughts  to 
himself,  and  received  ordination  from  highly  moral 
men  who  had  never  thought  enough  to  harbour  a 
doubt.  He  went  back  to  his  native  county  an  or- 
dained clergyman,  to  begin  what  he  believed  to  be 
his  labour  in  his  Master's  vineyard.  But  never  had 


48  CHILDREN   OF    DESTINY. 

shepherd  such  a  flock.  When  he  tried  to  teach  them 
spiritual  things,  they  resented  it  as  an  attack  on  their 
morals.  Old  Tom  Shapleigh,  who  was  a  vestryman, 
embodied  the  prevailing  sentiment  in  his  reply  to 
Conyers  when  the  clergyman  tried  to  find  out  old 
Tom's  spiritual  attitude. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Conyers,  I've  known  you  ever 
since  you  were  born,  and  I  was  a  regular  communi- 
cant in  Abingdon  church  before  your  father  mar- 
ried your  mother.  I  was  married  by  a  bishop — yes, 
zounds,  sir,  by  a  bishop! — and  pretty  dear  it  cost  me 
in  more  ways  than  one.  I  don't  ill-treat  my  wife, 
or  starve  my  negroes,  or  cheat  my  neighbour,  and, 
further  than  that,  you  have  nothing  to  do.  Spiritual 
attitude  be  hanged!  Go  after  the  women  if  you 
want  to  talk  that  sort  of  thing." 

Some  of  the  women,  notably  Mrs.  Blair,  had  a 
tender,  religious  sentiment  that  was  grateful  to  poor 
Conyers,  going  blindly  upon  his  way.  But  he  could 
not  accept  the  popular  doctrine  that  only  women 
had  any  spiritual  side.  To  him  the  great  funda- 
mental facts  of  existence — the  soul,  the  future  life, 
all  the  mysterious  hopes  and  fears  of  poor  humanity 
concerning  that  future  life — were  problems  that  no 
thinking  man  could  thrust  aside.  But  when  he  tried 
to  penetrate  further  than  Mrs.  Blair's  simple  belief, 
her  daily  reading  of  the  Bible  to  her  children  and 
servants,  he  found  that  he  only  startled  and  con- 
fused her.  When  he  tried  to  get  at  the  master  of 
the  house,  Blair  flatly  refused  to  have  anything  to 
say  regarding  the  state  of  his  soul.  The  men  like 
old  Tom  Shapleigh  guyed  Conyers;  the  men  of  finer 
fiber,  like  Jack  Blair,  avoided  him.  When  Mr.  Con- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


49 


yers,  meeting  Blair  in  the  road,  tried  to  talk  religion 
to  him,  Blair  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped  off, 
laughing.  When  Conyers  came  to  Newington  on  the 
same  errand  Blair  announced  to  his  wife  that  it  was 
useless. 

"I'll  be  shot  if  any  parson  living  shall  meddle 
with  my  religion  !  I  don't  mind  a  little  sermonising 
from  you,  my  dear,  and  you  know  I  made  an  agree- 
ment with  you  that  if  you'd  let  me  smoke  in  the 
drawing  room  I'd  stand  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  every 
night;  and  the  fact  is,  a  man  will  take  a  little  re- 
ligious dragooning  from  his  wife  or  his  mother  with- 
out grumbling.  But  when  it  comes  to  a  man's  trying 
it — why,  Conyers  is  an  ass,  that's  all." 

Poor  Conyers,  repulsed  on  every  side,  knew  not 
what  to  do.  He  found  but  one  person  in  the  whole 
community  willing  to  think  on  the  subject  of  religion, 
although  the  women  were  usually  quite  ready  enough 
to  feel.  This  was  Sylvia  Shapleigh.  But  Sylvia 
wanted  to  be  instructed. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  what  is  true  ?  The  Bible 
puzzles  me  ;  I  can't  understand  it.  Do  you  ? " 

Conyers  remained  silent. 

"  I  see  the  necessity  for  right  living,  Mr.  Conyers, 
for  right  feeling ;  but — there  is  something  more.  I 
know  it  as  well  as  you." 

Conyers's  glance  sought  Sylvia's.  Usually  his  eyes 
were  rather  cold  and  expressionless,  but  now  they 
were  full  of  a  strange  distress,  an  untold  misery. 
Here  was  the  first  human  being  who  had  ever  asked 
him  for  knowledge,  and  he  was  as  helpless  to  answer 
her  as  a  little  child.  And  he  aspired  to  be  a  teacher 
of  men  !  He  went  home  and  studied  furiously  at 


50  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

some  expurgated  copies  of  the  Fathers  he  possessed, 
and  at  a  few  more  or  less  acute  commentaries  upon 
them :  they  did  not  give  him  one  ray  of  light.  He 
had  two  or  three  one-sided  histories  of  the  Reforma- 
tion :  these  he  read,  and  cast  them  aside  in  disgust. 
The  readiness  with  which  creeds  were  made,  changed, 
made  again,  in  the  fifteenth  century  had  always  as- 
tounded and  disheartened  him.  The  old,  old  diffi- 
culty came  back  to  him — provision  was  made  every- 
where for  man's  moral  nature,  and  he  earnestly 
believed  that  provision  had  been  made  for  man's 
spiritual  nature,  but  he  could  not  find  that  provision 
in  the  narrow  sphere  to  which  his  learning  and  his 
observation  was  confined.  But  cast,  as  he  was,  upon 
a  vast  and  unknown  sea  of  doubt,  and  feeling  that 
he  knew  nothing,  and  could  explain  nothing,  he  con- 
fined himself  to  a  plain  and  evangelical  style  of  preach- 
ing and  an  ascetic  strictness  of  life.  He  made  some 
vain  appeals  for  help  from  his  ecclesiastical  superior, 
the  bishop,  but  the  bishop  plainly  did  not  understand 
what  Conyers  was  after,  and  bade  him  rather  sharply 
to  cease  from  troubling.  He  reminded  Conyers  of 
what  a  good  salary  Abingdon  church  paid  him,  and 
in  what  a  very  agreeable  and  hospitable  community 
his  lot  was  cast.  As  for  the  salary,  it  was  very  good 
on  paper.  But  the  laity  had  a  fearful  power  over 
the  clergy,  for  all  of  a  clergyman's  comfort  depended 
upon  whether  he  made  himself  agreeable  to  his  pa- 
rishioners or  not.  Conyers  found  this  the  most  har- 
rowing, debasing,  unapostolic  circumstance  in  all  his 
long  list  of  miseries.  He  earned  a  living,  but  he  had 
trouble  in  getting  it.  He  was  distinctly  unpopular, 
and  one  of  his  first  acts  after  taking  charge  of  the 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  5! 

parish  was  calculated  to  foment  his  unpopularity. 
He  had  scruples  about  slavery,  as  he  had  about 
everything,  for  he  was  a  man  tormented  by  a  devil 
of  scrupulosity.  He  had  inherited  five  negroes,  and 
these  he  set  free  and  commended  them  to  God.  The 
result  was  appalling.  Of  the  five,  two  became  con- 
firmed criminals,  two  died  of  exposure  and  neglect 
of  themselves,  and  one  was  hanged  for  murder.  The 
planters,  seeing  their  own  well-fed,  well-cared-for 
slaves  around  them,  pointed  to  Conyers's  experiment 
with  triumph.  That  was  what  freeing  a  lot  of  irre- 
sponsible half-monkeys  meant !  This  humble  tragedy 
haunted  Conyers  night  and  day,  and  almost  drove  him 
mad.  Conyers  had  not  been  a  young  man  when  he 
was  ordained,  but  after  this  he  lost  every  vestige  of 
youth.  There  were  cruel  hollows  in  his  face,  and  his 
strange  eyes  grew  more  and  more  distressed  in  their 
expression.  Nevertheless,  he  would  not  abandon  any 
one  of  his  theories  and  principles.  The  people  were 
far  from  vindictive.  On  the  contrary,  they  were 
singularly  amiable  and  easy-going;  and  had  they  been 
any  less  easy-going,  pastor  and  people  would  cer- 
tainly have  parted  company.  It  would  have  required 
a  concerted  effort  to  get  rid  of  him,  and  Conyers,  al- 
though he  would  cheerfully  have  given  up  his  daily 
bread  for  conscience'  sake,  yet  could  not  bear  to  part 
with  his  dream  of  being  a  teacher  and  preacher.  And 
he  knew  what  a  discredited  clergyman  meant.  So, 
alternately  harassed  with  doubts  and  fixed  in  a  dull 
despair,  he  presented  that  spectacle  which  the  heathen 
philosopher  declared  to  be  the  most  touching  sight  in 
the  world — a  good  man  in  adversity.  His  adversity 
had  a  practical  side  to  it,  too.  As  his  congregation 


52  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

did  not  like  him,  they  were  lax  about  paying  his 
salary.  The  pastors  they  were  used  to  complained 
readily  enough  when  the  stipend  was  not  forthcom- 
ing and  drummed  up  delinquents  briskly,  which  was 
a  very  good  and  wholesome  thing  for  the  delinquents ; 
and  it  had  not  been  so  very  long  ago  since  the  heavy 
hand  of  the  law  was  laid  upon  parishioners  who  were 
forgetful  of  this.  But  the  people  waited  for  Conyers 
to  remind  them  of  what  they  owed,  and  he  would 
rather  have  starved  by  inches  than  have  asked  them 
for  a  penny.  So  in  this  hospitable,  delightful  parish 
he  was  miserably,  desperately  poor.  The  only  thing 
he  wanted  of  his  parishioners  was  what  was  due  him, 
and  that  was  the  only  thing  they  would  not  give 
him,  for  they  were  not  ungenerous  in  other  ways, 
and  occasionally  sent  him  bottles  of  Madeira  when 
the  rectory  roof  was  leaking,  and  old  Tom  Shapleigh 
sent  him  regularly  every  winter  a  quarter  of  beef, 
which  spoiled  before  the  half  of  it  was  eaten.  Con- 
yers still  took  comfort  in  the  tender  emotional  re- 
ligion of  some  of  the  women,  but  Sylvia  Shapleigh, 
whose  restless  mind  traversed  mental  depths  and 
heights  unknown  to  most  women,  was  the  one,  single, 
solitary  person  in  the  world  who  really  understood 
why  it  was  that  Conyers  was  not  a  happy  man. 
Sylvia  herself,  with  a  great  flow  of  spirits  and  much 
wit  and  a  ridiculously  overrated  beauty,  was  not 
happy  either.  Her  good  looks  were  overrated  be- 
cause she  was  so  charming ;  but  as  she  passed  for 
a  beauty  it  was  all  one.  She  had,  it  is  true,  a  pair 
of  lovely  grey  eyes,  and  a  delicate  complexion  like 
a  March  primrose,  and  her  walk  was  as  graceful  as 
the  swallow's  flight.  She  was  getting  perilously 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  53 

fast  out  of  her  twenties,  and  there  was  apparently 
no  more  prospect  of  her  marrying  than  at  eighteen. 
Yet,  just  as  people  always  expected  Skelton  to  per- 
form some  wonderful  intellectual  achievement,  so 
they  still  expected  Sylvia  to  make  a  great  match. 

At  last,  fifteen  years  after  Skelton  had  left  Deer- 
chase,  he  returned  to  it  as  suddenly  as  he  left  it.  He 
brought  with  him  Bob  Skinny,  who  had  become  a 
perfect  monster  of  uppishness,  airs,  and  conceit ; 
Bulstrode,  who  was  understood  to  be  a  remarkable 
scholar  and  Skelton's  assistant  in  preparing  the  great 
work  that  was  to  revolutionise  the  world  ;  and  Lewis 
Pryor,  a  black-eyed  boy  whom  Skelton  represented 
to  be  the  orphan  child  of  a  friend  of  his,  a  professor 
at  Cambridge.  People  were  still  talking  about  Skel- 
ton's wonderful  promise.  He  was  then  getting  on 
towards  forty  years  old,  and  had  not  written  a  line 
since  "Voices  of  the  People."  The  subject  he  was 
engaged  upon  for  his  wonderful  forthcoming  book 
was  not  precisely  known,  but  it  was  understood  to 
be  a  philosophical  work,  which  would  not  leave  the 
Christian  religion  a  leg  to  stand  upon. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHEN  Skelton's  arrival  was  known  it  made  a 
tremendous  sensation.  Mrs.  Blair  turned  a  beautiful 
rosy  red  when  Blair  brought  the  news  home.  At 
thirty-five  she  was  still  girlish-looking,  and  her  dark 
eyes  were  as  bright  as  ever. 

"Ah,  my  girl,"  cried  Blair,  with  his  offhand  ten- 
derness, "  Skelton  has  never  forgiven  me  for  getting 
ahead  of  him  with  you ;  but  if  he  had  got  ahead  of 
me — why,  damme,  I'd  have  broken  his  neck  for  him 
long  before  this  !  " 

Sylvia  Shapleigh  felt  a  little  ashamed,  as  she  al- 
ways did  at  the  mention,  or  even  the  mere  thought, 
of  Skelton — she  had  been  such  a  very,  very  great 
fool !  and  she  had  a  lively  apprehension  of  her 
mother's  course  upon  the  occasion,  which  was  fully 
justified  by  events. 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  began  Mrs.  Shapleigh  one  even- 
ing, the  very  first  week  after  Skelton's  arrival  at 
Deerchase,  "you  will  have  to  go  and  call  upon 
Richard  Skelton,  for  it  would  break  my  heart  if  I 
did  not  see  some  of  those  elegant  things  he  has 
brought  home  in  that  pile  of  boxes  that  came  up 
from  the  wharf  to-day." 

"  Certainly,  my  love,  I  shall  call  to  see  him.     As 

(54) 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


55 


his  former  guardian,  I  feel  it  incumbent ;  but,  really, 
the  fellow  always  interested  me,  for  all  his  confounded 
supercilious  airs." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  you  seem  to  have  altogether 
forgotten  his  treatment  of  Sylvia ;  and  that  English 
wife  of  his  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  marry  again, 
just  to  spite  my  poor  child." 

Luckily  Sylvia  was  out  of  the  room  during  this; 
but  just  then  she  entered,  with  a  book  in  her  hand, 
and  seated  herself  at  the  round  mahogany  table  in 
the  corner  of  the  room,  upon  which  a  tall  lamp 
burned  with  shaded  softness.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  wisely 
dropped  that  branch  of  the  subject  when  Sylvia 
appeared. 

"  Anyhow,  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  resumed  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh, "  we  shall  be  obliged  to  ask  Richard  Skelton 
to  dinner.  We  can't  get  out  of  that." 

"  Very  well,  my  darling  love,  we  will  have  Skelton 
to  dinner." 

"But,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  how  can  we  possibly  have 
Richard  Skelton  to  dinner,  when  he  is  accustomed  to 
so  much  elegance  abroad  ?  And  although  we  live  as 
well  as  any  people  in  the  county,  yet  it  is  nothing  to 
what  he  will  have  at  Deerchase." 

"  Then,  my  life,  we  won't  have  Skelton  to  din- 
ner." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  how  you  talk  !  You  con- 
tradict yourself  at  every  other  word. — Sylvia,  what 
have  you  to  say  on  the  subject  ?  I  declare,  you  read 
so  much  you  don't  know  anything.  The  simplest 
thing  seems  to  puzzle  you." 

"Not  at  all,  mamma!"  cried  Sylvia,  with  spirit, 
and  bringing  her  book  together  with  a  clap.  "  Have 


56  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

Mr.  Skelton  to  dinner,  by  all  means — just  as  we  would 
have  the  Blairs,  or  any  other  of  the  neighbours.  I 
don't  care  a  fig  for  his  elegance.  We  are  just  as  good 
as  the  Skeltons  any  day ;  and  any  one  of  us — papa, 
or  you,  or  I — is  twice  as  good-looking  as  Mr.  Skel- 
ton." 

Sylvia  was  fond  of  disparaging  Skelton  both  to 
herself  and  to  other  people. 

"Sylvia!  Sylvia,  my  child  !"  screamed  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh  ;  "  your  vanity  is  very  unladylike,  and,  besides, 
it  is  sinful,  too.  Nobody  ever  heard  me  say  such  a 
thing,  although  I  had  a  much  greater  reputation  for 
good  looks  than  you  ever  had.  But  if  my  glass 
pleased  me,  7  never  said  anything." 

"  You  very  seldom  say  anything,  my  love,"  re- 
marked old  Tom,  quite  gravely. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  I  hope  the  next  time  you 
get  married  you  will  marry  a  loquacious  woman,  and 
then,  perhaps,  you'll  long  for  your  poor,  dear,  hum- 
ble Belinda.  But  to  get  back  to  the  dinner.  Of 
course,  we  must  have  everything  just  as  nearly  like 
the  way  they  have  it  at  Deerchase  as  possible,  al- 
though how  on  earth  we  can  have  things  the  least 
like  they  do  at  Deerchase,  even  if  I  put  out  every 
piece  of  glass  and  silver  I  have  in  the  world,  is  more 
than  I  can  tell.  But  whom  shall  we  ask  ?  That  queer 
person  that  Richard  Skelton  brought  home  to  write 
his  book— Mr.  Bulstrode  ?  " 

"  Yes,  by  all  means,"  cried  old  Tom,  grinning. 
"  He  looks  to  me  likely  to  be  an  ornament  to  so- 
ciety." 

"And  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blair?" 

"  Exactly,  my  love.     Blair  and  Skelton  hate  each 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


57 


other  like  the  devil ;  and  Mrs.  Blair  jilted  Skelton, 
and  I  daresay  has  been  sorry  for  it  ever  since.  Oh, 
yes,  we'll  have  the  Blairs,  madam." 

"And  Mr.  Conyers?" 

"  Gadzooks,  madam,  you're  a  genius !  Skelton 
doesn't  believe  in  hell  in  the  next  world,  and  Conyers 
is  trying  to  make  a  little  hell  of  his  own  in  Abingdon 
parish  ;  so  they  will  do  excellently  well  together." 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that 
Richard  Skelton  doesn't  believe  in  hell?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  in  a  shocked  voice. 

"  I  do,  indeed,  my  sweet.  I'm  not  sure  that  he 
believes  in  a  personal  devil,  or  the  horns  and  the 
hoofs,  or  even  the  tail." 

"  Good  gracious,  Mr.  Shapleigh  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  in  much  horror  and  distress.  "  If  Mr. 
Skelton  doesn't  believe  in  a  hell,  we  might  as  well 
give  up  asking  him  to  dinner,  because  the  bishop  is 
coming  next  month,  and  he'll  be  certain  to  hear  of 
it ;  and  what  will  he  say  when  he  hears  that  we  have 
been  entertaining  a  person  like  Richard  Skelton,  who 
flies  in  the  face  of  everything  the  bishop  says  we 
ought  to  believe!  " 

Mr.  Shapleigh  shook  his  head  with  waggish  de- 
spair, and  declared  the  dinner  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. This,  of  course,  renewed  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  de- 
termination to  have  it,  who  reflected  that,  after  all, 
the  bishop  might  not  hear  of  it,  or  perhaps  he  might 
die  before  his  annual  visitation  came  off — she  had 
heard  he  had  something  the  matter  with  his  liver, 
anyhow. 

Sylvia  listened  to  the  discussion  calmly — she  was 
used  to  this  kind  of  thing ;  and  as  her  father  and 


jg  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

mother  never  grew  at  all  angry  in  these  matrimonial 
tiffs,  she  did  not  mind  them,  having  had  a  lifetime 
to  become  accustomed  to  them.  But  she  felt  acutely 
anxious  about  meeting  Skelton,  and,  in  a  feminine 
way,  about  the  dinner.  She  wanted  everything 
to  go  off  well,  but  with  a  person  as  wonderful 
as  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  it  was  not  safe  to  count  on  any- 
thing. 

In  due  time  old  Tom  called  at  Deerchase,  and 
was  received  by  Skelton  with  more  courtesy  and 
deference  than  ever  before  in  his  life.  Skelton  met 
him  in  the  library — a  part  of  the  building  erected 
the  first  year  after  Skelton  left  Princeton.  It  was  a 
noble  room,  and  from  the  floor  to  the  lofty  ceiling 
were  books,  books,  books.  Old  Tom  had  never  seen 
so  many  books  together  in  his  life  before. 

Skelton  had  changed  but  little.  As  a  young  man 
he  had  looked  middle-aged ;  as  a  middle-aged  man 
he  looked  young.  His  hair  had  a  few  grey  threads 
in  it,  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  eager  eye  discovered  a 
small  place  on  the  top  of  his  head,  about  as  big  as 
a  half  dollar,  where  the  hair  was  getting  thin;  but  it 
took  Mrs.  Shapleigh  to  find  this  out — Mr.  Shapleigh 
didn't  observe  it  at  all.  Skelton's  only  remarkable 
feature  were  his  eyes,  which  were  as  black  and  soft 
and  fascinating  as  ever.  His  manner  had  lost  all  of 
its  early  superciliousness — he  knew  too  much  then 
to  be  anything  but  simple  and  unassuming.  But 
undoubtedly  there  was  something  imposing  in  his 
personality.  He  greeted  old  Tom  cordially,  and  in- 
quired after  Mrs.  Shapleigh  and  little  Sylvia. 

"  You  mean  tall  Sylvia,  I  presume,"  said  old  Tom, 
laughing.  "  She  is  nearly  as  tall  as  I  am,  and  deuced- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


59 


ly  pretty,  if  I  have  any  eyes.  Pardon  an  old  man's 
fondness,  Skelton." 

"  No  apology  is  needed.  I  am  sure  she  is  a  lovely 
young  woman ;  but  I  begin  to  realise  how  many  mile- 
stones I  have  passed  when  I  think  of  her  as  a  woman 
grown." 

"  She's  more  than  grown  ;  she  has  been  of  a  mar- 
riageable age  for  some  years — but  a  proud  creature 
she  is.  She  gives  all  sorts  of  flippant  reasons  for  re- 
fusing good  matches ;  but  the  fact  is,  nobody  is  quite 
good  enough  for  her  ladyship — so  Sylvia  thinks." 

"  A  proud,  pretty  creature  she  gave  promise  of 
being.  However,  we  can't  understand  them — the 
simple  creature,  man,  is  no  match  for  the  complex 
creature,  woman." 

"  O  Lord,  no  !  "  Mr.  Shapleigh  brought  this  out 
with  great  emphasis,  having  in  mind  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
and  what  he  had  heard  of  Skelton's  late  wife,  who 
had  put  the  very  most  effectual  barrier  he  knew 
against  her  husband's  marrying  again. 

"  But  now,  Skelton,"  continued  Mr.  Shapleigh, 
earnestly,  "we  are  looking  forward  to  that  some- 
thing great  which  you  are  destined  to  do.  No  man 
I  know  of — including  those  fellows  Burke  and  Sheri- 
dan—  ever  gave  greater  promise  than  you.  By 
George !  I  shall  never  forget  to  my  dying  day  the 
state  of  public  feeling  after  the  publication  of  that 
first  pamphlet  of  yours.  You  would  have  been 
nominated  to  Congress  by  acclamation  had  you  been 
twenty-one  years  old." 

A  flush  rose  in  Skelton's  dark  face.  That  early 
triumph  had  been  the  bugbear  of  his  whole  life. 

"  I  regard  that  as  a  very  crude  performance,"  he 


60  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

said  curtly.  "  It  happened  to  have  a  peculiar  apt- 
ness— it  struck  a  particular  conjunction.  That  was 
the  real  reason  of  its  success." 

"  Then  do  something  better,"  cried  old  Tom. 

"  I  hope  to,  some  day,"  answered  Skelton. 

They  were  sitting  in  the  embrasure  of  the  library 
window.  It  was  in  a  glorious  midsummer,  and  the 
trees  wore  their  greenest  livery. 

The  bright  pink  masses  of  the  crape  myrtle  trees 
glowed  splendidly,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  large  lawn 
the  broad,  bright  river  ran  laughing  in  the  sun.  The 
yellow  noonday  light  fell  directly  upon  Skelton's 
face — his  olive  complexion,  his  clear-cut  features; 
there  was  not  an  uncertain  line  in  his  face.  His 
lean,  brown,  sinewy  hand  rested  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair.  Old  Tom,  facing  him,  was  a  complete  con- 
trast— a  keen-eyed  man,  for  all  he  was  a  country 
squire,  his  fresh,  handsome  old  face  shining  above 
his  ruffled  shirt-front  and  nankeen  waistcoat. 

"  You've  got  a  pretty  good  array  of  literary  fel- 
lows about  you,"  said  old  Tom,  waving  his  stick 
around  the  library,  which  not  even  the  July  sun 
could  make  bright,  but  which  glowed  with  the  som- 
bre beauty  that  seems  to  dwell  in  a  true  library. 

'•Yes,"  answered  Skelton,  "but  I  have  an  old 
fellow  that  is  worth  all  the  books  to  me — Bulstrode; 
he  is  a  Cambridge  man — carried  off  honours  every 
year  without  turning  a  hair,  and  was  classed  as  a 
wonder.  But,  you  know,  when  God  makes  a  genius 
he  spoils  a  man.  That's  the  way  with  Bulstrode. 
He's  a  perfectly  worthless  dog  as  far  as  making  a 
living  and  a  respectable  place  in  society  goes.  He 
is  simply  a  vulgarian  pumped  full  of  knowledge  and 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY.  6 1 

with  the  most  extraordinary  powers  of  assimilation. 
He  can't  write — he  has  no  gift  of  expression  what- 
ever. But  I  can  give  him  ten  words  on  a  slip  of 
paper,  and  in  half  an  hour  he  can  give  me  every  idea 
and  every  reference  upon  any  possible  subject  I  de- 
mand. He  is  not  a  bad  man ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
has  a  sort  of  rude  honour  and  conscience  of  his  own. 
He  refused  orders  in  the  English  Church  because  he 
knew  himself  to  be  unfit.  Besides  looking  after  my 
books,  he  is  tutor  to  Lewis  Pryor,  the  son  of  an  old 
friend  and  tutor  of  mine,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Pryor." 

Skelton  brought  all  this  out  in  his  usual  calm, 
easy,  man-of-the-world  manner.  At  that  moment 
the  boy  passed  across  the  lawn  very  close  to  the  win- 
dow, where  he  stopped  and  whistled  to  his  dog. 
Never  were  two  pairs  of  eyes  so  alike  as  Skelton's 
and  this  boy's.  Old  Tom,  turning  his  glance  from 
the  boy  to  Skelton,  noticed  a  strange  expression  of 
fondness  in  Skelton's  eyes  as  he  looked  at  the  boy. 

"A  very  fine-looking  youngster,"  said  old  Tom. 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him  ? " 

"  Educate  him,"  answered  Skelton,  the  indiffer- 
ence of  his  tone  flatly  contradicting  the  ineffably 
tender  look  of  his  eyes.  "  Bulstrode  was  made  his 
guardian  by  one  of  those  freaks  of  dying  people. 
Pryor  knew  Bulstrode  as  well  as  I  do,  and  he  also 
knew  that  I  would  do  a  good  part  by  the  boy ;  but 
for  some  reason,  or  want  of  reason,  he  chose  to 
leave  the  boy  in  Bulstrode's  power.  However,  as 
Bulstrode  is  in  my  power,  it  does  not  greatly  matter. 
The  boy  has  a  little  property,  and  I  intend  giving 
him  advantages.  His  father  was  a  university  man, 
and  Lewis  shall  be  too." 
5 


62  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  the  county  dull  after 
your  life  abroad,"  said  old  Tom,  abruptly  quitting 
the  subject  of  Lewis  Pryor. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  have  felt  for  some  years  the  ne- 
cessity of  settling  down  to  work,  if  I  ever  expect 
to  do  anything.  Travelling  is  a  passion  which  wears 
itself  out,  just  as  other  passions  do.  I  can't  under- 
stand a  man's  expatriating  himself  for  ever.  It  is  one 
of  the  benefits  of  a  landed  gentry  that  the  soil  grasps 
it.  Nothing  has  such  a  hold  on  a  man  as  land.  It 
is  one  of  the  good  points  of  our  system.  You  see, 
I  now  admit  that  there  is  something  good  in  our 
system,  which  I  denied  so  vehemently  before  I  was 
old  enough  to  vote." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Shapleigh.  "  Land,  land, 
land !  That's  the  cry  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  all  over 
the  world.  That's  why  it  is  they  are  the  dominant 
people ;  that's  why  it  is  that  they  cannot  exist  on 
terms  of  equality  with  any  other  race  whatever." 

"  True,"  said  Skelton.  "  All  races  that  come  in 
contact  with  them  are  held  in  bondage  of  some  sort. 
Rule  or  ruin  is  the  destiny  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  every- 
where." 

Skelton  had  not  asked  a  single  question  about 
anybody  in  the  county.  This  did  not  surprise  old 
Tom,  who  was  prepared  to  tell  him  a  great  deal  had 
Skelton  manifested  the  slightest  curiosity.  When 
he  rose  to  go  Skelton  very  civilly  and  gracefully 
thanked  him  for  his  care  and  guardianship,  and  made 
some  slight,  laughing  apology  for  his  own  insubor- 
dination. 

"No  thanks  at  all — no  thanks  at  all  are  due," 
answered  old  Tom  jovially.  "  I  rather  enjoyed  man- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  63 

aging  such  a  property,  and  I  flatter  myself  it  did  not 
decrease  in  my  hands.  As  for  managing  you — ha! 
ha ! — 1  admit  that  was  a  flat  failure.  So  you  brought 
back  that  black  rascal,  Bob  Skinny  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  I  daresay  some  fine  morning  the 
other  negroes  will  take  him  out  and  hang  him  to  a 
tree  outside  my  bedroom  window.  The  fellow  is 
perfectly  intolerable — can  find  nothing  good  enough 
for  him  at  Deerchase.  He  is  a  natural  and  incor- 
rigible liar ;  and,  worse  still,  he  has  learned  to  play 
on  what  he  calls  the  '  fluke,'  and  between  playing 
the  '  fluke,'  and  telling  unconscionable  lies  about  his 
travels,  he  is  a  nuisance.  The  housekeeper  told  me, 
this  morning,  there  would  be  a  mutiny  soon  among 
the  house  servants  if  Bob  wasn't  suppressed.  But 
the  dog  knows  his  value  to  me,  and  presumes  upon 
it,  no  doubt." 

Then  came  the  invitation  to  dinner  at  Belfield, 
which  Skelton  accepted  politely,  but  he  would  do 
himself  the  honour  to  call  on  Mrs.  Shapleigh  and  his 
little  friend  Sylvia  beforehand. 

The  call  was  made,  but  neither  of  the  ladies  was 
at  home.  A  day  or  two  after,  old  Tom  Shapleigh 
had  occasion  to  go  on  an  errand  about  their  joint 
water  rights,  to  Deerchase,  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh  went 
with  him.  Then,  too,  as  by  a  singular  fate,  Skelton 
was  out  riding  about  the  plantation.  But  Bulstrode 
and  Lewis  happened  to  be  in  the  hall,  and  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh, who  was  dying  with  curiosity,  alighted  and 
went  in  on  their  invitation. 

Old  Tom  immediately  began  to  talk  to  Bulstrode, 
while  Mrs.  Shapleigh  bestowed  her  attentions  on 
Lewis,  much  to  his  embarrassment.  Suddenly,  in 


64  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

the  midst  of  the  murmur  of  voices,  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
screeched  out : 

"  La ! " 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ? "  asked  old  Tom,  expect- 
ing to  hear  some  such  marvel  as  that  the  floor  was 
beautifully  dry  rubbed,  or  that  Skelton  had  cut  down 
a  decaying  cedar  near  the  house. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  likeness  as  that  between 
this  boy  and  that  picture  of  Richard  Skelton 's  father 
over  yonder?" 

Every  eye  except  Lewis's  was  turned  towards 
the  portrait.  Skelton  had  had  all  of  his  family  por- 
traits touched  up  by  a  competent  artist,  who  had 
practically  done  them  over.  The  portrait  was  of  a 
boy  dressed  in  colonial  costume,  with  his  hair  falling 
over  a  wide  lace  collar.  He  was  about  Lewis's  age, 
and  the  likeness  was  indeed  extraordinary.  It  was 
hung  in  a  bad  light  though,  and  if  it  had  been  de- 
signed to  keep  it  out  of  sight  its  situation  could  not 
have  been  better. 

Bulstrode  glanced  quickly  at  Lewis.  The  boy's 
eyes  were  bent  upon  the  ground  and  his  whole  face 
was  crimson.  Old  Tom  was  glaring  at  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh, who,  however,  prattled  on  composedly : 

"  Of  course,  I  recollect  Mr.  Skelton  very  well ;  but 
as  he  was  at  least  thirty  before  I  ever  knew  him,  he 
had  outgrown  those  clothes,  and  looked  a  good  deal 
more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen.  But  it  is  certainly  the 
most  wonderful — " 

"  My  love,"  cried  old  Tom  in  a  thundering  voice, 
"  look  at  those  Venetian  blinds.  If  you'd  like  some 
to  your  drawing-room  I'll  stand  the  expense,  by 
Gad ! " 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  65 

This  acted  on  poor,  good  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  mind 
like  a  large  stone  laid  before  a  rushing  locomotive. 
It  threw  her  completely  off  the  track,  and  there  was 
no  more  danger  of  her  getting  back  on  it.  But  Bui- 
strode  observed  that  Lewis  Pryor  did  not  open  his 
mouth  to  say  another  word  during  the  rest  of  the 
visit.  As  soon  as  the  Shapleighs  left,  Lewis  took  his 
dog  and  disappeared  until  late  in  the  afternoon. 
When  he  came  in  to  dinner  he  avoided  Bulstrode's 
eyes,  and  looked  so  woe-begone  that  Bulstrode  felt 
sorry  for  him.  However,  Skelton  knew  nothing  of 
all  this,  and  it  so  happened  that  he  did  not  meet  the 
Shapleighs,  or,  indeed,  any  of  the  county  people, 
until  the  day  of  the  dinner  at  Belfield.  Blair  mean- 
while had  called  too,  but,  like  the  Shapleighs,  had 
found  Skelton  out  on  the  plantation,  and  eagerly 
professed  to  be  unable  to  wait  for  his  return  home; 
so  that  the  day  of  the  dinner  was  the  first  time  that 
the  Shapleighs,  or,  indeed,  any  of  the  county  people, 
had  seen  Skelton. 

Mrs.  Shapleigh  had  heard  that  Skelton  dined  late, 
so  she  named  six  o'clock  for  the  dinner — a  perfectly 
preposterous  hour  at  that  period  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  She  also  managed  to  have  three  men  to 
wait  at  dinner  by  pressing  into  the  service  James, 
the  coachman  and  gardener.  James  was  an  inky- 
black  object,  who,  with  a  pair  of  large  white  cotton 
gloves  on,  was  as  helpless  as  a  turtle  on  his  back. 
However,  Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  a  first-class  house- 
keeper, and  the  dinner  was  sure  to  be  a  good  one — 
so  Sylvia  comforted  herself.  Skelton  quite  truth- 
fully said  it  was  the  best  dinner  he  had  seen  since 
he  left  Virginia — turtle  soup,  oysters  in  half  a  dozen 


66  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

ways,  a  royal  display  of  fish,  a  saddle  of  venison, 
wild  ducks  and  woodcock  and  partridges,  a  ham 
cured  with  hickory  ashes  and  boiled  in  two  quart 
bottles  of  old  Tom  Shapleigh's  best  champagne. 
There  were,  besides,  a  great  many  and-so-forths,  but 
Skelton  did  not  say  that  he  enjoyed  the  dinner  par- 
ticularly, and  so  saved  his  reputation  for  truth. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  regarded  it  as  something 
worse  than  a  bore.  He  shrewdly  suspected  that  Eliza- 
beth Blair  would  be  there,  and  it  would  be  his  first 
meeting  with  her  after  that  awkward  little  contre- 
temps of  so  many  years  ago — for  he  had  managed  to 
avoid  her  during  that  solitary  year  he  spent  at  Deer- 
chase.  In  fact,  everybody  invited  to  the  dinner  was 
in  more  or  less  trepidation. 

Skelton  arrived  punctually  at  six  o'clock,  and 
Bulstrode  was  with  him.  Everybody  else,  though, 
had  taken  six  o'clock  to  mean  half-past  five,  and 
were -promptly  on  hand.  It  was  not  quite  dusk,  and 
the  purple  twilight  was  visible  through  the  open 
windows,  but  the  wax  candles  were  lighted  and 
glowed  softly  in  the  mellow  half-light. 

Old  Tom  greeted  Skelton  cordially,  and  so  did 
Mrs.  Shapleigh,  who  had  temporarily  buried  the 
hatchet,'  and  who  comforted  herself  by  thinking  how 
awfully  sorry  Skelton  would  be  that  he  couldn't 
marry  Sylvia  when  he  saw  her  and  heard  her  play 
on  the  guitar  and  sing.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  herself  was 
still  beautiful ;  the  face  that  had  blinded  old  Tom 
thirty  years  before  to  the  infinite  silliness  of  the 
woman  who  owned  it  had  not  lost  its  colour  or  regu- 
larity. But  its  power  to  charm  faded  with  its  first 
youth.  Stranger  than  the  power  of  beauty  is  the 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  67 

narrow  limits  to  which  it  is  restricted.  These  ideas 
passed  through  Skelton's  mind  as  he  saw  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh  the  first  time  in  fifteen  years.  Sylvia,  though, 
without  one  half  her  mother's  beauty,  possessed  all 
the  charm  and  grace  the  older  woman  lacked.  Skel- 
ton  glanced  at  her  with  calm  though  sincere  approval. 
She  was  very  like  the  little  girl  who  had  swung  her 
white  sun-bonnet  at  him,  although  he  knew  she  must 
be  quite  twenty-seven  years  old ;  but  in  her  grey 
eyes  was  a  perpetual  girlish  innocence  she  could 
never  lose.  Then  came  the  difficult  part — speaking 
to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blair.  Mrs.  Blair  complicated  the 
situation  by  blushing  suddenly  and  furiously  down 
to  her  white  throat  when  Skelton  took  her  hand. 
Skelton  could  cheerfully  have  wrung  her  neck  in 
rage  for  her  blushing  at  that  moment.  She  was 
changed,  of  course,  from  seventeen,  but  Skelton 
thought  her  rather  improved;  she  had  gained  colour 
and  flesh  without  losing  her  slenderness.  Jack  Blair 
had  got  very  middle-aged  looking,  to  Skelton's  eyes, 
and  his  youthful  trimness  and  slimness  were  quite 
gone;  but  nobody  had  found  it  out  except  Skelton. 
Then  there  was  the  long,  thin  parson  with  the 
troubled  eyes.  Bulstrode  was  as  awkward  as  a 
walrus  in  company,  and  glanced  sympathetically  at 
James,  black  and  miserable,  whose  feelings  he  quite 
divined. 

Sylvia  in  the  course  of  long  years  had  been 
forced  to  acquire  quite  an  extraordinary  amount  of 
tact,  in  order  to  cover  the  performances  of  Mrs. 
Shapleigh,  and  she  found  she  had  use  for  all  of  it. 
Mrs.  Shapleigh,  however,  was  completely  awed  by 
the  deadly  civility  with  which  Skelton  received  all  of 


68  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

her  non  sequiturs,  and  soon  relapsed  into  a  blessed 
silence. 

This  gave  Sylvia  a  chance  to  take  Skelton  off 
very  dexterously  in  a  corner. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  Deerchase  inhabited  again," 
she  said  in  her  pretty  way.  "  It  is  pleasant  to  see 
the  smoke  coming  out  of  the  chimneys  once  more." 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  to  be  there  once  more,"  an- 
swered Skelton.  "  After  all,  one  longs  for  one's  own 
roof.  I  did  not  think,  the  afternoon  you  paid  me 
that  interesting  visit,  that  fifteen  years  would  pass 
before  I  should  see  the  old  place  again." 

"  Ah,  that  visit !  "  cried  Sylvia,  blushing — blush- 
ing for  something  of  which  Skelton  never  dreamed. 
"  I  daresay  you  were  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of  me. 
What  inconceivable  impertinence  I  had  !  " 

"  Is  the  crab's  bite  well  yet  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you.  And  have  you  remem- 
bered that  all  these  years  ? " 

"  Perfectly.  I  never  had  such  a  startling  adven- 
ture with  a  young  lady  before  or  since." 

There  is  something  peculiarly  charming  in  the 
simplicity  of  people  who  are  something  and  some- 
body in  themselves.  Sylvia  realized  this  when  she 
saw  how  Skelton's  way  of  saying  ordinary  things 
lifted  them  quite  above  the  ordinary. 

How  easy  and  natural  he  made  it  all !  she  thought. 
And  she  had  expected  the  great,  the  grand,  the  won- 
derful Skelton  to  talk  like  one  of  Mr.  Addison's  es- 
says. What  a  thing  it  was  to  travel  and  see  the 
world,  to  be  sure !  That  was  why  Skelton  was  so 
easy,  and  put  her  so  much  at  ease  too. 

Skelton,  meanwhile,  was  in  no  enviable  frame  of 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  69 

mind.  Elizabeth  Blair's  presence  brought  back  pain- 
ful recollections.  He  remembered  some  foolish 
threats  he  had  made,  and  he  thought,  with  renewed 
wonder  and  disgust,  how  he  had  walked  the  library 
floor  at  Deerchase,  night  after  night,  in  frightful 
agitation,  afraid  to  look  toward  the  table  drawer 
where  his  pistols  lay  for  fear  of  the  horrible  tempta- 
tion to  end  it  all  with  a  pistol  shot.  She  was  a  sweet 
enough  creature,  but  no  woman  that  ever  lived  was 
worth  half  the  suffering  he  had  undergone  for  her. 
After  all,  though,  it  was  not  so  much  regret  for  her 
as  it  was  rage  that  another  man  should  supplant  him. 
The  same  feeling  waked  suddenly  and  powerfully 
within  his  breast.  He  had  always  despised  Blair, 
and  he  found  the  impulse  just  as  strong  as  ever — a 
fellow  who  spent  his  days  galloping  over  fields  and 
bawling  after  dogs  preferred  to  him,  Richard  Skel- 
ton !  Nevertheless,  he  went  up  and  talked  pleas- 
antly and  naturally  to  Elizabeth,  and  inquired,  as  in 
duty  and  politeness  bound,  after  the  whole  Armi- 
stead  tribe.  Elizabeth  was  the  only  one  of  them 
left,  and  Skelton  listened  gravely  while  she  told  him 
freely  some  family  particulars.  He  had  heard  of 
Hilary  and  little  Mary,  and  expressed  a  wish  that 
Hilary  should  be  friends  with  his  own/r0/<^/,  Lewis 
Pryor.  He  carefully  repeated  what  he  had  told  Mr. 
Shapleigh  about  Lewis ;  but  Mrs.  Blair  said  no  word 
of  encouragement,  and  then  dinner  was  ready,  and 
Skelton  went  out  with  Mrs.  Shapleigh  on  his  arm. 

Sylvia,  from  motives  of  prudence,  placed  herself 
next  him  on  the  other  side.  Having  a  humorous 
knack,  Sylvia  could  very  often  turn  Mrs.  Shapleigh's 
speeches  into  the  safe  channel  of  a  joke.  At  the 


70  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

other  end  of  the  table  old  Tom  had  beside  him  Mrs. 
Blair,  who  was  quite  a  pet  of  his.  Skelton,  with 
infinite  tact,  talked  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  them 
for  the  last  fifteen  years,  instead  of  having  been 
indulging  in  all  sorts  of  startling  adventures  abroad 
while  they  were  vegetating  in  the  country. 

The  conversation  pretty  soon  got  on  racing,  for 
the  Campdown  course  was  to  them  their  opera,  drive, 
lecture,  concert — everything,  in  short,  except  the 
church.  Conyers  was  quite  out  of  this  conversation, 
and  was  used  to  being  so.  Bulstrode  likewise  found 
it  a  bore,  and  took  refuge  in  gulping  down  glass  after 
glass  of  sherry,  port,  madeira,  champagne — any  and 
every  thing  that  came  to  hand.  But  he  did  not  en- 
joy it,  although  old  Tom's  cellar  was  not  to  be  de- 
spised. He  feared  and  revered  a  good  woman,  and 
the  presence  of  the  ladies  took  all  the  taste  out  of 
the  wine  and  utterly  disconcerted  him.  He  had  often 
said  to  Skelton :  "  Curse  me,  if  I  can  drink  comfort- 
ably in  the  presence  of  women.  They  are  a  stand- 
ing rebuke  to  such  old  ruffians  as  I."  Skelton,  how- 
ever, entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  racing  talk  as  if 
it  were  of  the  greatest  possible  moment.  But  it  was 
a  very  delicate  one  in  Blair's  presence.  Too  often 
had  Skelton's  colours — black  and  yellow — come  in 
ahead  of  Blair's  blue  jackets  and  white  caps.  Skel- 
ton and  Blair,  though,  each  showed  a  gentlemanly 
obliviousness  of  all  this. 

Skelton,  however,  chose  to  admire  a  certain  colt 
of  old  Tom  Shapleigh's  in  a  way  that  made  Blair 
prick  up  his  ears. 

"I  was  walking  across  your  pasture  the  other 
day — trespassing,  in  fact,  as  I  have  half  forgotten 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  j\ 

my  own  land — when  I  saw  that  black  horse  of 
yours — " 

"  Alabaster !  "  cried  Sylvia.  "  He  is  so  black  that 
I  could  not  find  a  name  black  enough  for  him,  so  I 
went  by  the  rule  of  contrary.  He  is  to  be  my  riding 
horse." 

" Yes,"  groaned  old  Tom  ruefully,  "Sylvia  says 
she  will  have  him.  He  isn't  a  full  thoroughbred,  but 
he  has  some  good  blood  in  him,  and  I  wanted  to  sell 
him  to  somebody,  like  our  friend  Blair  here,  who 
would  find  out  how  much  speed  there  is  in  him,  for 
he  has  it  unquestionably.  But  he  pleases  my  girl, 
and  she  proposes  to  keep  me  out  of  a  snug  sum  of 
money  in  order  that  she  may  have  a  fine  black  horse 
to  ride.  Zounds!  Skelton,  I'm  the  most  petticoat- 
ridden  man  in  this  county." 

"  No  horse  is  too  good  for  Miss  Shapleigh,"  an- 
swered Skelton,  with  gallantry  ;  "  but  if  she  could  be 
persuaded  that  another  horse,  with  a  coat  as  smooth 
and  a  tail  as  long  as  Alabaster's,  could  carry  her,  I 
should  like  to  see  a  match  between  him  and  that 
long-legged  bay  of  mine — Jaybird,  I  believe,  is  his 
name." 

Now  Jaybird  was  the  gem  of  Skelton's  stable, 
and  had  beaten  everything  against  which  she  had 
been  matched  since  her  debut,  so  that  to  say  that 
Alabaster  possibly  had  too  much  foot  for  her,  at  once 
put  the  black  horse  in  the  category  of  great  horses. 

"  If  you  can  persuade  Sylvia  to  let  me  sell  him, 
I'd  be  delighted,"  said  old  Tom,  with  his  cheery  laugh  ; 
"but  I'll  not  answer  for  your  success  with  her. 
Women  are  mysterious  creatures,  my  dear  Skelton." 

"  Undoubtedly  they  are,"  replied  Skelton  gravely. 


>j2  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

"  Miss  Shapleigh  wants  Alabaster  because  she  wants 
Alabaster.  Nothing  could  be  more  conclusive." 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  Sylvia  airily ;  "  and 
when  we  cease  to  be  mysterious  and  inconsequent 
we  shall  cease  to  charm." 

"  Whateley,  the  old  dunderhead,  says,"  began 
Bulstrode  in  his  deep,  rich  voice,  and  with  perfect 
seriousness,  "  that  women  are  always  reaching  wrong 
conclusions  from  the  right  premises,  and  right  con- 
clusions from  the  wrong  premises  ";  at  which  every- 
body laughed,  and  Sylvia  answered: 

"Then,  as  our  premises  are  always  wrong,  our 
conclusions  must  be  always  right.  Mr.  Skelton,  I 
shall  keep  Alabaster." 

"And  my  horse,  Jaybird,  will  keep  his  reputa- 
tion," said  Skelton,  with  his  slight  but  captivating 
smile. 

The  instant  Skelton  said  this  Blair  was  possessed 
with  the  desire  to  own  Alabaster.  The  idea  of  such 
a  horse  being  reserved  for  a  girl's  riding !  It  was 
preposterous.  Racing  in  those  days  was  by  no  means 
the  fixed  and  formal  affair  it  is  now.  It  was  not  a 
business,  but  a  sport,  and  as  such  each  individual  had 
great  latitude  in  the  way  he  followed  it.  Matches 
were  among  the  commonest  as  well  as  among  the 
most  interesting  forms  it  took,  and  a  match  between 
Jaybird  and  Alabaster  struck  Blair  as  of  all  things 
the  most  desirable;  and  in  an  instant  he  resolved  to 
have  Alabaster,  if  the  wit  of  man  could  contrive  it. 
He  would  show  old  Tom  the  weakness,  the  wicked- 
ness, of  his  conduct  in  letting  himself  be  wrapped 
around  Sylvia's  little  finger  in  that  way,  and,  if  neces- 
sary, he  would  try  his  persuasive  powers  on  Sylvia 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  73 

herself.  Women  were  not  usually  insensible  to  his 
cajolery. 

None  of  the  women  at  the  table  took  much  in- 
terest in  the  talk  that  followed.  Mrs.  Blair  saw  in- 
stinctively that  Blair's  passion  for  horses  was  being 
powerfully  stimulated  by  Skelton's  presence  and  talk 
about  the  Campdown  course,  which  she  secretly  con- 
sidered to  be  the  bane  of  her  life.  But  she  was  too 
proud  to  let  any  one — Skelton  least  of  all — see  how 
it  troubled  her.  She  even  submitted  to  be  drawn 
into  the  conversation,  which  the  men  at  the  table 
were  too  well  bred  to  leave  the  women  out  of,  for  by 
little  references  and  joking  allusions  they  were  be- 
guiled into  it.  Blair  teased  Sylvia  about  her  un- 
failing faith  in  a  certain  bay  horse  with  a  long  tail, 
on  account  of  which  she  had  lost  sundry  pairs  of 
gloves.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  reminded  Mr.  Shapleigh  of 
a  promise  he  had  made  her  that  she  should  one  day 
drive  four  horses  to  her  carriage. 

"  I  said  four  horses  to  your  hearse,  my  dear," 
cried  old  Tom.  "  I  always  promised  you  the  finest 
funeral  ever  seen  in  the  county,  and,  by  Jove,  you 
shall  have  it  if  I  have  to  mortgage  every  acre  I've 
got  to  do  it !  " 

"  Old  wretch  !  "  whispered  Elizabeth  to  Mr.  Con- 
yers,  while  Jack  Blair  called  out  good-naturedly : 

"  I  swear,  if  you  hadn't  the  best  wife  in  the  world, 
you  would  have  been  strangled  long  years  ago." 

"  I  daresay  I  would,"  answered  old  Tom  frankly. 
In  those  robust  days  gentlemen  used  stronger  lan- 
guage than  in  the  present  feeble  time,  and  nobody 
was  at  all  shocked  at  either  Mr.  Shapleigh's  remark 
or  Jack  Blair's  commentary.  There  was  a  jovial 


74 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


good  humour  about  old  Tom  which  took  the  sting 
out  of  his  most  outrageous  speeches.  But  as  the 
talk  about  racing  flowed  on,  Elizabeth  Blair  grew 
paler  and  paler.  Jack  Blair's  fever  was  upon  him, 
and  Skelton,  whether  consciously  or  not,  was  fanning 
the  flame.  Skelton  said,  in  a  very  modest  way — for 
he  was  too  great  a  man  in  the  community  to  need  to 
be  anything  but  modest — that  his  interests  in  racing 
being  much  greater  than  ever,  as  he  was  then  on  the 
spot,  he  should  double  his  subscription  to  the 
club.  As  it  was  known  that  his  subscription  was 
already  large,  this  created  a  flutter  among  the  gentle- 
men. 

"  Of  course  I  can't  double  my  subscription  in  the 
debonair  manner  of  Mr.  Skelton,"  said  Blair  with  an 
easy  smile,  "but  I  don't  mind  saying  that  I  shall 
raise  it  very  considerably." 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Blair  caught  Skelton's  eyes 
fixed  on  her  pityingly — so  she  imagined — and  it 
spurred  her  to  show  him  that  she  was  not  an  object 
of  commiseration,  and  that  Jack  Blair  had  no  do- 
mestic rod  in  pickle  for  him  on  account  of  that  last 
speech. 

"  Now,  if  you  change  your  mind,"  she  said  play- 
fully to  her  husband,  "don't  lay  it  on  your  wife,  and 
say  she  wouldn't  let  you,  for  here  I  sit  as  meek  as  a 
lamb,  not  making  the  slightest  protest  against  any  of 
these  schemes,  which,  however,  I  don't  pretend  to 
understand  in  the  least." 

"  My  dear,"  cried  Blair,  his  face  slightly  flushed 
with  wine  and  excitement,  "  don't  try  to  pretend,  at 
this  late  day,  that  you  do  not  dragoon  me.  My  sub- 
jugation has  been  county  talk  ever  since  that  night 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


75 


you  slipped  out  of  the  garden  gate  and  rode  off  with 
me  in  search  of  a  parson." 

A  magnetic  shock  ran  through  everybody  present 
at  this.  Blair,  in  saying  it,  glanced  maliciously  at 
Skelton.  That  paid  him  back  for  Oriole  beating 
Miss  Betsy,  and  Jack-o'-Lantern  romping  in  ahead 
of  Paymaster,  and  various  other  defeats  that  his 
"  horse  or  two  "  had  met  with  from  the  black  and 
yellow. 

In  an  instant  the  talk  began  again  very  merrily 
and  promptly.  Blair  looked  audaciously  at  his  ease, 
but  Skelton  was  not  a  whit  behind  him  in  composure. 
He  turned,  smiling,  to  Sylvia,  and  said : 

"  How  all  this  talk  must  bore  you  !  " 

Sylvia  felt  furious  with  Blair.  They  had  not 
asked  Skelton  there  to  insult  him.  Therefore  she 
threw  an  extra  softness  into  her  smile,  as  she  re- 
plied : 

"  It  is  very  nice  to  talk  about  something  else 
occasionally.  I  long  to  hear  you  talk  about  your 
travels." 

"  My  travels  are  not  worth  talking  about,"  an- 
swered Skelton  in  the  same  graceful  way;  "but  I 
have  some  very  pretty  prints  that  I  would  like  to 
show  you.  I  hope  you  will  repeat  your  interesting 
visit  of  some  years  ago  to  Deerchase — some  time 
soon." 

"  You  are  cruel  to  remind  me  of  that  visit,"  said 
Sylvia,  with  her  most  charmingly  coquettish  air.  "  I 
have  the  most  painfully  distinct  recollection  of  it, 
even  to  finding  fault  with  the  little  yellow  room  be- 
cause it  was  not  as  fine  as  the  rest  of  the  house." 

Skelton  concluded  that  neither  a  course  of  travel, 


76  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

a  system  of  education,  nor  a  knowledge  of  the  world 
were  necessary  to  teach  Miss  Sylvia  how  to  get  into 
the  good  graces  of  the  other  sex.  In  the  midst  of  it 
all,  Bulstrode,  who  heard  everything  and  was  consti- 
tutionally averse  to  holding  his  tongue,  whispered  to 
Conyers: 

"  That  speech  of  Mr.  Blair's  has  ruined  him— see 
if  it  has  not";  while  old  Tom  Shapleigh  growled 
sotto  voce  to  himself,  "This  comes  of  the  madam's 
damnable  mixing  people  up." 

There  was  no  more  real  jollity  after  this,  although 
much  affected  gaiety ;  nor  was  the  subject  of  racing 
brought  up  again.  Presently  they  all  went  to  the 
drawing  room,  and  cards  and  coffee  were  brought. 
In  cutting  for  partners,  Sylvia  and  Skelton  played 
against  Blair  and  Bulstrode.  Everybody  played  for 
money  in  those  days,  and  there  were  little  piles  of 
gold  dollars  by  each  player.  Blair  was  a  crack  whist 
player,  but  luck  was  against  him.  Besides,  he  had 
had  an  extra  glass  or  two  of  wine,  and  the  presence 
of  Skelton  was  discomposing  to  him;  so,  although 
the  stakes  were  small,  he  managed  to  lose  all  the 
money  he  had  with  him.  Sylvia  could  not  but  ad- 
mire the  exquisite  tact  with  which  the  rich  man  ac- 
cepted the  winnings  from  the  poor  man.  Skelton 
gave  not  the  smallest  hint  that  any  difference  at  all 
existed  between  Blair  and  himself,  and  Blair  lost  his 
money  with  the  finest  air  in  the  world.  As  for  Skel- 
ton, he  had  always  hated  Blair,  and  that  speech  at 
dinner  warmed  his  hatred  wonderfully,  for  Skelton 
could  forgive  an  injury,  but  not  an  impertinence. 
Any  want  of  personal  respect  towards  himself  he 
ranked  as  a  crime  deserving  the  severest  punishment. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  77 

Towards  eleven  o'clock  the  party  broke  up.  Blair 
had  made  a  mortal  enemy,  he  had  drank  too  much 
wine,  he  had  distressed  his  wife,  offended  his  hosts, 
and  lost  all  his  money.  Bulstrode  and  Conyers  had 
been  bored  to  death — Bulstrode  because  he  was  all 
for  drink  and  the  classics,  Conyers  because  it  was 
against  his  conscience  to  take  part  in  jovial  dinner 
parties.  Skelton  was  furiously  angry  in  spite  of  his 
invincible  coolness  and  self-possession.  Sylvia  was 
vexed.  Old  Tom  was  sardonically  amused.  Only 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  congratulated  herself,  as  the  last  car- 
riage drove  off,  with : 

"  Well,  the  dinner  was  a  great  success.  I  never 
saw  people  enjoy  themselves  more  in  my  life!" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  very  first  and  most  lasting  impression  made 
upon  Lewis  Pryor's  boyish  mind  was  that  a  subtile 
difference  existed  between  him  and  every  other  boy 
he  had  ever  known  in  his  life.  At  the  first  glance 
the  difference  would  seem  to  have  been  altogether 
in  Lewis's  favour,  for  he  always  had  a  plenty  of  pocket 
money,  and  a  pony  to  ride,  and  a  servant  to  wait 
on  him ;  but,  being  a  very  healthy-natured,  honest- 
hearted  boy,  he  regarded  these  things  with  admirable 
indifference,  and  instinctively  rated  them  at  their 
true  value,  which  was  small.  In  fact,  he  came,  in  the 
course  of  his  boyish  experiences,  to  hate  these  dis- 
tinctions in  his  favour,  as  he  imagined  sometimes  that 
it  accounted  for  the  shyness  of  other  boys  towards 
him.  From  his  very  earliest  recollection  there  had 
been  this  strange  and  mystifying  avoidance,  and  the 
boy's  heart  swelled  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears 
whenever  he  thought  of  it.  Not  only  was  it  strange, 
but  it  was  cruelly  undeserved,  for  he  felt  himself 
worthy  of  respect.  He  had  never  told  a  lie  in  his 
life,  and  such  boyish  naughtinesses  as  he  had  been 
guilty  of  were  merely  the  ordinary  lapses  of  im- 
petuous young  creatures.  But  poor  Lewis  was  per- 
force a  model  boy,  for  it  is  tolerably  hard  for  a  boy 

(78) 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  79 

to  get  in  mischief  by  himself.  Lewis,  gazing  with 
melancholy  eyes  at  others  of  his  own  age,  would 
feel,  with  a  tightening  at  his  heart,  that  he  would 
cheerfully  give  his  pony  and  all  his  fine  belongings 
to  be  one  with  those  merry,  happy  fellows.  He  re- 
membered dimly  his  mother — a  gentle  creature  who 
lavished  tenderness  upon  him ;  his  father — Thomas 
Pryor,  the  tutor — a  tall,  thin,  spectacled  man ;  and 
they  all  lived  very  quietly  somewhere  in  the  country 
in  England.  But  even  then  he  had  no  playmates. 
Then  he  remembered  quite  distinctly  his  father  and 
his  mother  both  dying,  and  Bulstrode  and  Bob  Skinny 
being  there  and  taking  him  to  Skelton.  Lewis  was 
then  about  five  years  old.  After  that  came  a  dreary 
existence  of  splendid  suites  of  rooms  in  foreign  ho- 
tels, where  he  and  Bulstrode  were  usually  waiting 
for  Skelton  and  Bob  Skinny  to  turn  up,  when  they 
would  all  go  on  to  some  other  splendid  suite  of 
rooms  in  another  place,  all  equally  dreary  to  the 
lonely  boy.  Bulstrode  was  his  guardian,  and  was 
supposed  to  be  his  tutor,  and  Lewis  did  his  lessons 
with  tolerable  regularity.  But  he  had  a  little  store 
of  books — some  old  romances,  dear  to  every  boy's 
heart,  and  some  of  Scott's  novels,  which  were  coming 
out,  and  a  few  other  imaginative  books,  which  he 
devoured  with  insatiate  delight.  Sometimes,  with 
one  of  these  darling  dog's-eared  volumes,  he  could 
be  perfectly  happy,  lying  on  the  rug  before  the  fire, 
with  his  dog  Service  poking  his  cold  nose  affection- 
ately into  his  face,  or  flat  on  his  back  in  the  summer 
time,  with  the  dog  on  the  grass  near  him,  and  the 
trees  murmuring  softly  overhead.  For  want  of  other 
companionship  he  made  a  friend  and  confidant  of 


gO  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

Service ;  and  the  two  would  exchange  queer  confi- 
dences, and  understood  each  other  as  only  a  boy  and 
a  dog  can.  But  more  than  the  dog — even  more  than 
his  cherished  romances — Lewis's  most  beloved  pos- 
sessions were  certain  books  inscribed  "  Thomas  Pryor, 
M.  A.,"  and  a  miniature  of  his  father — a  lanky  per- 
son, as  unlike  Lewis's  dark,  clear-cut  little  face  as 
could  be  imagined — and  a  quaint  picture  in  black 
and  white  of  his  mother.  But  he  thought  of  her  so 
often  and  so  much  that  he  had  in  his  mind's  eye  a 
perfect  portrait  of  her.  Bulstrode  was  always  ready 
enough  to  talk  to  the  boy  about  his  father  and 
mother,  but  Lewis  soon  found  that  Bulstrode's  talk 
amounted  to  nothing  at  all,  as  he  had  seen  but  little 
of  either  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Pryor.  As  for  Skelton,  Lewis 
could  not  make  him  out.  He  was  always  kind,  al- 
ways indulgent,  and  Lewis  was  quite  sharp  enough 
to  see  that,  however  Bulstrode  might  be  his  guardian, 
Skelton  had  the  real  authority  over  both  Bulstrode 
and  himself.  But  there  was  a  perfect  formality  be- 
tween them.  The  boy  remembered,  though,  once 
when  he  was  ill,  that  Skelton  scarcely  left  him  day 
or  night.  He  always  dined  with  Skelton,  and  at 
dinner  had  one  very  small  glass  of  wine,  after  which 
he  might  have  been  expected  to  leave  the  table. 
Occasionally  after  dinner  Skelton  would  thaw,  and 
would  talk  to  the  boy  in  a  way  that  quite  charmed 
him,  telling  him  of  Skelton 's  own  boyhood  and  his 
travels.  When  they  came  to  Virginia,  Lewis  found 
the  new  country  more  like  his  faintly  remembered 
English  home  than  he  could  express,  and  was  a  thou- 
sand times  happier  than  he  had  been  in  the  splendid 
lodgings  where  so  much  of  his  boyhood  had  been 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY.  gl 

passed.  He  liked  much  better  riding  over  the  coun- 
try on  his  pony  than  taking  a  tiresome  canter  in  a 
public  park ;  Service  and  himself  had  much  jol- 
lier times  in  the  woods  and  fields  than  in  prim  city 
gardens.  And  then  the  negroes  were  so  amusing, 
and  called  him  "  Little  Marse  "  so  obsequiously,  and 
he  had  a  boat  to  sail  on  the  river.  This  last  gave 
him  the  most  acute  and  intense  pleasure.  Skelton, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  taught  him  something 
in  teaching  him  to  sail  the  boat. 

"  Now,  Lewis,"  Skelton  said,  the  first  morning  the 
boat  was  put  into  the  water,  "  I  foresee  that  you  will 
live  in  this  boat,  and  as  you  will  no  doubt  be  upset 
dozens  of  times,  and  be  caught  in  squalls  and  all  sorts 
of  accidents,  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  teach  you  to 
depend  upon  yourself.  The  river  is  not  more  than 
fifteen  feet  deep  anywhere,  except  in  the  channel, 
and  with  ordinary  intelligence  and  care  nothing 
worse  ought  to  happen  to  you  than  a  good  wetting 
once  in  a  while.  The  boat  is  staunch.  I  myself 
watched  Jim,  the  wheelwright,  making  it,  and  gave 
him  the  dimensions" — for  the  boat  had  been  built  at 
Deerchase — "  and  the  sail  is  quite  large  enough  for 
it  " — Lewis  did  not  agree  with  this  last,  as  his  ambi- 
tion was  to  have  the  smallest  boat  and  the  biggest 
sail  on  the  river — "and  if  you  are  drowned  it  will  be 
your  own  fault." 

Lewis  was  wonderfully  apt  at  learning  anything, 
and  Skelton,  in  his  quiet  way,  showed  an  excellent 
knack  of  teaching.  Every  day,  for  a  week  or  more, 
the  two  were  out  in  the  boat  together  upon  the 
bright  river  glowing  in  the  August  sunshine.  Lewis 
often  wondered  if  Skelton  were  not  bored  as  they 


g2  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

sailed  up  and  down  the  river,  and  then  beyond  out 
into  the  bay,  Skelton  sitting  in  the  stern,  with  a  book 
in  his  hand,  reading  when  he  was  not  showing  Lewis 
how  to  manage  the  boat.  It  puzzled  the  boy  be- 
cause there  was  usually  such  a  distance,  so  much 
reserve  between  them.  More  than  once  Lewis  caught 
Skelton's  black,  expressive  eyes  fixed  on  him  with  a 
look  that  was  almost  fondness,  and  at  such  moments 
the  boy's  heart  would  thrill  with  a  strange  emotion. 
He  had  often  thought  that  he  would  ask  Skelton  some 
time  about  his  father  and  mother,  and  what  better 
opportunity  could  he  have  than  when  sailing  together 
for  hours  upon  the  blue  water  ?  But  he  never  did  it. 
In  spite  of  Skelton's  interest,  and  his  evident  desire 
to  secure  Lewis  from  danger  by  making  him  a  good 
sailor,  the  barrier  remained.  In  a  very  short  while, 
though,  Lewis  mastered  the  whole  science  of  a  sail- 
boat, with  one  exception.  Nothing  could  induce 
him  to  take  the  sail  down  until  a  squall  was  actually 
upon  him,  and  in  consequence  of  this  he  got  into  the 
water  several  times  unnecessarily.  But  he  was  a  cool- 
headed  fellow,  and  a  good  swimmer  besides,  so  that 
his  various  upsets  did  him  no  harm.  Skelton,  on 
these  occasions,  would  send  for  him  and  give  him 
lectures  upon  his  foolhardiness,  which  Lewis  would 
receive  respectfully  enough,  saying  "Yes,  sir,"  every 
time  Skelton  paused.  But  when  the  door  was  closed 
Skelton  would  sigh,  and  smile  too,  and  say  to  himself, 
"  There  is  no  frightening  the  fellow." 

There  was  but  one  boy  in  the  neighbourhood 
near  Lewis's  age.  This  was  Hilary  Blair,  a  hand- 
some, fair-haired,  freckle-faced  boy,  who  began  the 
acquaintance  with  a  sturdy  contempt  for  Lewis's 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  83 

prowess.  Hilary  was  a  year  older  than  Lewis,  and  a 
heavier  and  stouter  boy.  But  at  the  first  personal 
encounter  between  the  two  young  gentlemen,  which 
was  precipitated  by  a  dispute  over  a  game  of  mar- 
bles in  the  main  road,  Lewis  showed  so  much  science 
in  the  manly  art,  that  Hilary  was  knocked  out  igno- 
miniously  about  the  fourth  round.  Hilary  displayed 
excellent  good  sense  in  the  affair.  He  got  up  with  a 
black  eye,  but  an  undaunted  soul. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "you've  taken  lessons  of 
some  sort." 

"  Yes,"  responded  Lewis,  shamefacedly,  remember- 
ing that  he  had  had  lessons  of  all  sorts — boxing, 
fencing,  dancing,  riding,  everything,  in  short — while 
this  country  gentleman's  son  knew  nothing  of  many 
of  these  things;  "but  if  you  want  to,  I'll  teach  you 
all  I  know,  and  then  " — here  the  fighting  instinct  in 
the  boy  cropped  out — "  I'll  lick  you  just  as  easy  as  I 
do  now." 

"  I  reckon  you  won't,"  answered  Hilary  coolly, 
and  it  turned  out  that  he  was  right ;  for,  with  the 
addition  of  such  scientific  instruction  as  Lewis  could 
impart,  the  two  boys  were  very  evenly  matched  in 
their  future  encounters,  which  were  purely  friendly 
and  in  the  interests  of  sport. 

The  boys  became  fond  of  each  other  in  a  surrep- 
titious way,  for  Hilary  never  came  to  see  Lewis,  and 
an  instinctive  delicacy  kept  Lewis  from  going  to 
Newington.  But  they  met  on  the  river,  out  fishing, 
and  in  the  woods  setting  their  hare-traps,  and  they 
exchanged  whispers  during  church-time. 

On  Sundays  Lewis  sat  alone  in  one  of  the  great 
square  high-backed  pews,  which  still  remained  in  the 


34  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

old  colonial  church  of  Abingdon.  That  unlucky 
singularity  of  luxury  which  was  the  bane  of  poor 
Lewis's  life  actually  followed  him  to  church,  for 
Skelton's  was  the  only  upholstered  pew  in  the 
church ;  and  instead  of  the  faded  moreen  curtains 
of  the  other  pews,  when  they  were  curtained  at  all, 
there  was  a  fine  purple-silk  drapery,  behind  which  the 
lonely  boy  sat  forlornly.  He  was  the  only  person 
who  went  to  church  regularly  from  Deerchase.  Bui- 
strode  scoffed  at  the  notion,  and  Skelton  alleged 
usually  that  he  was  too  busy.  Once  in  a  great  while, 
though,  he  would  saunter  into  church  about  the 
second  lesson.  Conyers,  who  feared  no  man,  not 
even  Skelton,  would  stop  deliberately  in  the  midst 
of  the  sermon  as  a  rebuke  to  Skelton.  Skelton, 
however,  would  be  perfectly  unmoved  by  it,  as  well 
as  by  the  hundreds  of  curious  eyes  bent  upon  him, 
and  would  walk  down  the  aisle  with  his  inimitable 
grace  and  a  half  smile  on  his  lips.  Conyers,  though, 
by  that  strange  contrariety  which  seems  to  govern 
human  affairs,  found  his  best  supporters  in  Skelton 
and  Bulstrode,  whom  he  expected  to  be  his  most 
powerful  foes.  So  far  from  antagonising  Conyers 
on  account  of  the  public  rebuke  administered  upon 
his  tardiness,  Skelton  respected  him  for  it,  and  never 
failed  to  speak  to  the  parson  politely  before  all  the 
people  as  they  gossiped  in  the  churchyard.  It  was 
not  Skelton's  way  to  withhold  the  meed  of  justice 
due  any  man,  and  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  stern, 
scruple-ridden,  conscientious  moralist  had  a  very 
hard  time  with  his  merry,  free-handed,  pleasure- 
loving  congregation — the  pastor  intolerant  of  pleas- 
ure, the  flock  intolerant  of  pain. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  85 

As  for  Bulstrode,  Conyers's  sad  heart  had  glowed 
when  he  first  heard  of  the  advent  of  this  great 
scholar  in  the  county.  Perhaps  here  was  light  at 
hand.  But  the  very  first  sight  of  Bulstrode  was 
enough  for  him.  Bulstrode's  guzzling  of  liquor,  his 
unbridled  license  of  tongue,  were  repelling  to  a  nat- 
ural born  ascetic  and  enthusiast.  But  Bulstrode  was 
instantly  attracted  by  the  parson  with  the  distressed 
eyes,  which  always  seemed  to  be  looking  for  some- 
thing which  they  never  could  find.  He  pursued  the 
acquaintance,  and  actually  tracked  Conyers  to  his 
lair  in  the  tumble-down  rectory.  Here  Bulstrode 
would  sit  for  hours,  clawing  his  unkempt  hair,  and 
drinking  innumerable  cups  of  tea  out  of  a  cracked 
teapot  from  sheer  force  of  habit.  He  talked  on 
every  imaginable  subject,  and  poured  out  the  stores 
of  his  learning  lavishly.  But  he  never  touched,  in 
the  remotest  degree,  upon  religion.  Conyers  found 
out,  though,  that  Bulstrode  was  deeply  skilled  in 
that  science  called  theology,  and  at  last  the  impulse 
came  to  unburden  his  mind  and  heart,  which  Bulstrode 
had  long  foreseen.  They  were  sitting,  one  night  soon 
after  their  acquaintance  began,  in  the  shabby  rectory 
study,  when  Conyers  made  his  confession — telling  it 
all  recklessly,  his  sallow  face  glowing,  his  deep  eyes 
burning.  Bulstrode  heard  patiently,  even  that  great- 
est grievance  of  all  to  Conyers — the  unwillingness  of 
people  to  think  upon  the  great  affair  of  religion,  and 
their  perfect  willingness  to  accept  anything  rather 
than  to  bestow  consideration  or  thought  upon  it. 

"And  do  you  imagine,"  asked  Bulstrode  gravely, 
stopping  in  the  midst  of  his  tea-drinking,  "  that  re- 
ligion is  an  intellectual  exercise?" 


36  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

Poor  Conyers  admitted  that  he  thought  it  had  an 
intellectual  side. 

"  So  it  has,  so  it  has ;  but  it  has  a  great  emotional 
side  too,"  answered  Bulstrode ;  "  that's  where  the 
women  are  nearer  right  than  men  think.  The 
Christian  religion  undertakes  to  make  a  human  being 
better,  but  it  doesn't  pretend  to  make  him  wiser  or 
happier — or  only  incidentally ;  so  you  see,  it  must 
work  in  the  heart  of  man  as  in  the  brain.  And  I 
tell  you,  my  clerical  friend,  that  the  great  defect  in 
all  the  other  systems  I've  studied — and  I  know  'em 
all — is  that  they  are  meant  for  thinkers,  and  that 
leaves  out  nine  tenths  of  the  human  race.  The  in- 
tellectual side  of  man's  relation  to  the  Great  First 
Cause  was  worked  out  long  ago  by  those  clever  old 
Greeks.  All  these  modern  fellows  have  been  thresh- 
ing over  old  straw." 

Conyers  was  surprised  at  this,  and  said  so.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  men  who  dared  to  meddle  with 
so  vast  a  subject  must  be  of  gigantic  strength  and 
heroic  mould.  Through  the  mists  of  his  own  igno- 
rance and  inexperience  their  figures  loomed  large,  but 
when  he  expressed  this  in  halting  language,  Bulstrode 
shouted  with  laughter. 

"  You  think  a  man  must  be  a  second  Plato  to  start 
a  new  philosophic  system — a  new  religion,  in  fact ! 
Why,  look  you,  parson,  most  undergraduates  have 
doubts  about  a  Great  First  Cause  even  ;  and  there  are 
monstrous  few  university  men  who  don't  expect  to 
make  a  new  religion  some  time  or  other.  They  have 
the  disease,  like  measles  or  whooping-cough,  and  get 
over  it  and  are  better  afterwards." 

Conyers  had  an  idea  that  among  men  of  true 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY.  87 

learning  the  Christian  religion  was  treated  as  a  lot 
of  old  women's  fables,  while  all  systems  of  philoso- 
phy were  regarded  with  the  utmost  respect.  This, 
too,  he  expressed  to  Bulstrode. 

"  Don't  know,  I'm  sure,  how  it  is  in  this  queer 
country,"  answered  Bulstrode,  pouring  himself  out  a 
ninth  cup  of  tea,  "  but,  comparing  things  according 
to  their  size,  the  biggest  system  is  small  compared 
with  that  enormous  fact  of  Christianity.  Mind,  I 
ain't  a  Christian  myself,  though  I  lean  that  way,  and 
when  I'm  drunk  and  my  mind  works  rapidly,  and  I 
see  the  relations  of  things  better,  I  lean  that  way 
still  more ;  for,  know  you,  Wat  Bulstrode  drunk  is  a 
better  man  than  Wat  Bulstrode  sober." 

If  this  was  meant  as  a  hint  for  Conyers  to  pro- 
duce something  stronger  than  tea,  it  failed  of  its  ob- 
ject, for  not  even  to  make  Bulstrode  talk  like  a 
Christian,  would  Conyers  so  far  outrage  his  con- 
science as  to  give  liquor  to  a  man  already  too  fond 
of  it.  Bulstrode  really  threw  out  the  remark  more 
as  a  test  of  the  man  than  a  hint,  but  when  Conyers 
refused  the  bait  a  strange  glitter  came  into  Bul- 
strode's  dull  eyes.  Here  was  that  honest  man,  whose 
untarnished  integrity  was  like  the  sun  at  noonday. 
Bulstrode,  in  admiration  for  this,  conceived  the  idea 
of  establishing  in  Conyers  a  sincere  belief  of  Chris- 
tianity; for,  half-educated,  starved  spiritually,  and 
the  prey  of  scruples  that  were  really  doubts,  Conyers 
scarcely  knew  where  he  stood.  So,  then,  the  extraor- 
dinary spectacle  was  presented  of  a  man  little  better 
than  a  heathen  preaching  the  gospel  to  a  man  after 
God's  own  heart.  Bulstrode  was  fully  sensible  of 
the  grotesqueness  of  the  thing,  but  all  disposition  to 


gg  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

laugh  was  checked  by  the  sublime  earnestness  with 
which  Conyers  followed  him.  Bulstrode  marshalled 
with  singular  power  and  precision  all  the  arguments 
in  favour  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  beginning 
with  Plato.  He  then  argued  profoundly  and  subtly 
in  favour  of  a  revealed  religion.  He  pointed  out  all 
the  weak  spots  in  the  various  substitutes  for  religion 
that  had  been  offered  in  various  ages,  and  laid  bare 
their  defects  mercilessly.  He  sat  until  late  in  the 
night  talking,  Conyers's  eyes  all  the  time  growing 
less  and  less  sombre. 

"  Now,"  said  Bulstrode,  getting  up  toward  mid- 
night, "  I've  given  you  all  the  weapons  I  have,  and 
taught  you  how  to  thrust  and  parry  the  best  I  know 
how ;  and,  hang  me,  parson,  I've  almost  argued  my- 
self into  being  a  Christian  too  while  I've  been  trying 
to  convert  you  !  " 

Conyers  smiled  involuntarily  as  he  looked  at  Bul- 
strode. There  was  nothing  apostolic  in  that  bulky 
figure  and  careless,  dissipated  face. 

Bulstrode  went  back  to  Deerchase,  and  com- 
plained next  morning  that  he  had  been  kept  up  late 
the  night  before  labouring  with  Conyers  to  make 
him  a  Christian. 

Conyers,  however,  felt  that  he  had  been  more 
helped  by  this  boozy  heathen  than  by  all  the  theo- 
logians he  had  ever  met  with  in  his  life. 

Meanwhile  Skelton  and  his  affairs  continued  to 
be  of  prodigious  interest  among  the  county  people, 
who  regarded  him  as  their  local  prodigy.  There 
was,  of  course,  great  speculation  about  his  wife's  for- 
tune, and  much  indignation  expressed  that  it  could 
not  be  bestowed  upon  some  of  the  numerous  young 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  89 

women  who  would  have  presided  so  admirably  at 
Deerchase.  The  universal  conviction  was  that  Skel- 
ton  would  never  marry,  but,  in  the  strange  event  that 
he  did,  conjecture  ran  wild  as  to  what  would  become 
of  the  money. 

Some  said  it  went  to  found  a  great  charity  hos- 
pital somewhere ;  others,  that  it  returned  to  the  late 
Mrs.  Skelton's  family ;  others  still,  that,  Mrs.  Skel- 
ton  having  quarrelled  with  her  relations,  they  would 
get  none  of  it,  but  that  it  would  go  to  Skelton's  next 
of  kin,  which,  wonderful  to  say,  were  Elizabeth  Blair 
and  her  children ;  but  everybody  was  agreed  in  think- 
ing that,  before  Skelton  would  see  the  Blairs  bene- 
fitted  by  him,  he  would  turn  his  back  on  Helen  of 
Troy  could  she  come  back  to  earth.  However,  the 
solution  seemed  far  enough  off.  It  was  perfectly  well 
known  that  the  late  Mrs.  Skelton  had  put  an  embargo 
of  some  sort  upon  her  place  being  filled,  and  they 
would  have  to  wait  until  Skelton,  who  was  in  the 
perfection  of  physical  health,  should  be  laid  in  his 
grave  before  the  mystery  would  be  solved. 

Skelton  had  come  home  in  the  early  summer, 
and,  although  he  had  been  formally  called  upon  by 
all  the  gentry  in  the  county,  including  Blair,  as  soon 
as  he  arrived,  and  the  visits  had  been  returned,  but 
little  had  been  seen  of  him.  Even  when  the  autumn 
meeting  of  the  Jockey  Club  had  come  off,  and  when 
all  the  people  from  four  counties  had  assembled  and 
Skelton's  horses  had  carried  everything  before  them, 
Skelton  himself  had  scarcely  appeared  on  the  course 
at  all.  The  truth  was  he  was  making  a  desperate 
effort  to  work.  He  shut  himself  up  every  day  in  the 
library,  and  actually  got  some  little  way  upon  his  In- 


90  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

troduction,  but  in  a  very  short  while  a  strange  and 
irritating  torpor  seized  upon  him  mentally.  He  had 
no  distractions — he  had  all  his  books  close  by  him, 
his  notes  tabulated ;  the  whole  thing  was  ready  to 
his  hand.  The  hand,  though,  refused  to  work ;  the 
mind  refused  to  drive  the  hand.  Skelton  found  he 
did  as  little  in  the  scholastic  retirement  which  he  had 
adopted  as  in  the  whirl  of  cities. 

He  turned  to  racing  as  a  faint  and  unsatisfying 
distraction.  He  had  had  the  pleasure  of  beating 
Blair  all  along,  even  at  the  autumn  meeting;  he  had 
had  the  savage  enjoyment  of  knowing  that  Blair  was 
as  unlucky  as  usual  when  pitted  against  him.  Skel- 
ton's own  secret  dissatisfaction  with  himself  fanned 
his  resentment  against  Blair.  He  turned  feverishly 
to  the  only  thing  that  interested  him — the  determi- 
nation to  make  Jack  Blair  know  what  it  was  to  op- 
pose Richard  Skelton.  Blair's  imprudent  speeches, 
his  constant  reminders  of  the  why  and  wherefore  of 
Skelton's  rivalry,  were  not  lost  on  him,  and  men  of 
his  type  are  always  dangerous  to  trifle  with. 

Skelton's  doubled  subscription  to  the  Jockey  Club 
had  had  a  wonderful  stimulating  effect  upon  that  in- 
stitution, and  it  also  caused  Mrs.  Blair  to  sign  her 
name  to  a  bit  of  paper  which  enabled  Blair  to  raise 
some  money,  not  only  for  his  own  increased  subscrip- 
tion, but  for  that  horse  of  old  Tom  Shapleigh's 
which  Skelton  himself  had  professed  to  be  afraid  of. 
If  once  a  match  could  be  brought  about  between 
Alabaster  and  Jaybird,  Blair,  who  was  irrepressibly 
sanguine,  believed  that  he  could  wipe  out  all  old 
scores  between  them.  And,  of  course,  he  could  buy 
the  horse — old  Tom  had  not  seriously  meant  that 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  9I 

Sylvia  was  to  have  for  a  riding  nag  a  horse  that  could 
beat  Jaybird.  Blair  thought  that  raising  a  certain 
sura  of  money,  which  was  in  effect  an  extravagant 
price,  must  certainly  buy  Alabaster.  But  he  had  to 
go  through  with  some  unpleasant  processes  before 
raising  that  money.  He  was  terribly  hard  up  at  that 
time,  and  one  of  the  most  necessary  conditions  was 
the  signing  of  his  wife's  name  to  a  bit  of  paper  that 
to  him  represented  Alabaster,  money,  coming  out 
ahead  of  Skelton — everything,  in  short. 

When  he  went  after  Elizabeth  to  sign  that  paper 
she  was  sewing  together  the  leaves  of  Hilary's  Latin 
grammar,  and  wishing  she  could  buy  some  new 
books  that  the  boy  needed — for  she  taught  him  her- 
self, under  the  womanly  pretense  that  they  might 
thereby  save  up  money  for  his  university  expenses. 
But  she  knew  in  her  heart  of  hearts  that  no  money 
was  saved  or  thought  of  being  saved.  Only  her 
pride  was  saved  by  that  subterfuge.  The  drawing- 
room  at  Newington  where  she  sat  was  very  unlike 
the  splendid  drawing-rooms  at  Deerchase  or  the 
gaudy  show-rooms  at  Belfield.  It  was  large,  plain, 
and  old-fashioned.  The  mahogany  furniture  was 
scanty,  and  the  ornaments  consisted  of  those  daubs 
of  family  portraits  which  all  Virginians  possess.  It 
was  a  gloomy  afternoon  early  in  October,  and  neither 
the  room  nor  anything  in  it  looked  cheerful.  Blair 
came  in  whistling,  and  stated  the  case  to  Elizabeth. 
As  she  had  brought  him  no  fortune,  it  seemed  ungra- 
cious in  her  to  refuse  him  that  which  was  his  own, 
but  she  thought  of  Hilary,  and  her  heart  sank.  Nev- 
ertheless, she  signed  the  paper  with  the  quill  pen 
that  Blair  cut  for  her  with  his  penknife.  When  ask- 


92  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

ing  her  to  make  the  sacrifice  for  him  he  did  not  in- 
sult her  by  any  endearments ;  there  were  certain  fine 
points  of  delicacy  about  him  which  well  pleased  her 
woman's  soul.  He  profoundly  respected  the  love 
between  them,  and  would  have  scorned  to  use  it 
directly  as  a  means  of  wheedling  anything  out  of 
her.  But  when  her  name  was  signed,  he  tipped  her 
chin  up  and  kissed  her  with  ineffable  tenderness. 

"  By  heaven,  my  girl,"  he  said,  "  you  deserve  a 
better  husband  than  I  have  ever  made  you !  But 
you  could  never  find  one  that  loves  you  half  as 
much." 

This  gave  Elizabeth  a  chance  to  air  a  grievance 
which  she  had  been  cherishing  ever  since  the  dinner 
at  Belfield.  Mrs.  Blair  was  an  uncommonly  level- 
headed woman,  and  if  any  one  had  suggested  a 
doubt  of  her  husband  to  her,  nothing  could  have  ex- 
ceeded her  righteous  resentment  towards  the  sug- 
gestor.  But  there  never  had  been  a  time  in  all  their 
married  life  that  Mrs.  Blair  had  not  fancied  Blair's 
admiration  fixed  upon  some  girl  in  the  county,  who 
nine  times  out  of  ten  bored  him  to  death,  and  Mrs. 
Blair  was  always  ready  with  a  few  tears  and  a  re- 
proach or  two  on  the  subject  of  these  imaginary 
injuries. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  withdrawing  with  an  offended 
air  from  his  encircling  arm,  "  you  can  say  these 
things  to  me  now,  but  ever  since  that  night  at  Bel- 
field,  when  you  never  took  your  eyes  off  Sylvia  Shap- 
leigh,  you  have  been  thinking  a  great  deal  too  much 
about  her." 

"  Elizabeth,"  said  Blair  solemnly,  "  you  are  a 
fool,"  and  then  he  suddenly  burst  out  laughing — a 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 


93 


genuine  laugh,  inspired  by  the  perfect  absurdity  of 
the  thing. 

"And  you  won't  deny  it?"  asked  Elizabeth,  try- 
ing feebly  to  maintain  her  position. 

"  Of  course  not,"  answered  Blair,  becoming  se- 
rious. "  If  you  were  a  man  I  should  knock  you  down. 
As  you  are  a  woman,  I  can't,  but  I  decline  to  take 
any  notice  of  what  you  say.  This  is  the  seventeenth 
girl,  I  believe,  that  you  have  accused  me  of  making 
eyes  at." 

Elizabeth  condescended  to  smile  at  this,  and  har- 
mony was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  restored  between  them. 
But  after  a  moment  Elizabeth  said : 

"There  is  something  else,  though,  which  troubled 
me  that  night.  It  was  at  the  dinner  table." 

Blair  knew  in  an  instant  that  she  meant  his  in- 
creased subscription  to  the  Jockey  Club,  but  he  asked 
what  she  meant. 

"  Can  you  ask  me  ?"  replied  Elizabeth. 

"  The  devil  I  can,"  cried  Blair,  dropping  at  once 
into  the  ordinary,  every-day,  vexed-husband's  tone. 
"Look  here,  Elizabeth,  didn't  you  encourage  me?" 

"  What  could  I  do,"  answered  his  wife  with  a  pite- 
ous smile,  "with  Richard  Skelton  looking  on  and 
pitying  me  ? " 

"And  what  could  /  do,  with  Skelton  challenging 
me  in  every  tone  of  his  voice  and  look  of  his  eye  ? 
Don't  I  know  that  Miles  Lightfoot  has  got  his  orders 
to  ruin  me  at  any  cost  ?  And  do  you  think  that  a 
man  would  quietly  draw  out  and  yield  the  field  to 
another  man  under  the  circumstances  ?  No,  Eliza- 
beth, I  beat  Skelton  in  the  race  for  you,  and  I'll  beat 
him  again  on  the  Campdown  course.  And  it  isn't  so 
7 


94 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


hard  as  you  think.  You  know  that  black  colt  Ala- 
baster, of  old  Tom  Shapleigh's  ?  Well,  that  colt  is 
more  than  three  fourths  thoroughbred — he  has  a 
strain  of  blood  in  him  that  goes  straight  back  to 
Diomed.  Now,  that  three  fourths  thoroughbred  can 
beat  any  thoroughbred  in  Skelton's  stable  ;  and  Skel- 
ton  himself  said  so  in  effect  the  night  of  that  con- 
founded dinner,  and  I'm  going  to  have  that  horse.  I 
shall  have  him  with  this  money  that  you  have  enabled 
me  to  raise,  and  which  I  regard  as  a  gift  from  you." 

Blair  kissed  her  again — he  certainly  knew  how  to 
express  his  thanks.  Elizabeth  had  heard  the  story 
about  Alabaster  and  Diomed  before. 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  Mr.  Shapleigh  wouldn't 
sell  him  ?" 

"  He  shall  sell  him,  by  George ! "  cried  Blair  vio- 
lently, and  bringing  his  fist  down  on  the  mantel. 
"  Elizabeth,  you  can't  imagine  how  the  desire  to  own 
that  horse  has  taken  possession  of  me.  You  make 
yourself  jealous  about  a  lot  of  pink-faced  girls  that  I 
never  looked  at  twice,  and,  if  you  only  knew  it,  your 
real  rival  is  Alabaster.  I  swear  I  am  in  love  with 
that  horse !  I  dream  about  him  at  night.  I  never 
saw  such  quarters  in  my  life — so  strong,  so  sinewy, 
yet  so  light !  And  in  the  daytime,  as  I  ride  by  the 
pasture  and  see  him  roaming  around,  not  half  at- 
tended to,  it  maddens  me  that  such  a  creature 
should  not  be  more  appreciated.  If  I  had  him  I 
could  pay  off  all  the  mortgages  on  this  place.  I  could 
send  Hilary  to  school,  and  have  a  governess  for 
Mary.  I  could  give  you  a  new  carriage,  and,  better 
than  all,  I  could  beat  Skelton  at  his  own  game." 

He  spoke  with  a  strange  fierceness,  he  so  debonair 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  g- 

and  full  of  careless  good  humor.  Elizabeth  looked 
at  him  in  amazement.  In  all  their  fifteen  years  of 
married  life  she  had  never  seen  this  trait  in  him.  He 
was  so  intense,  so  wrought  up  over  the  horse,  that 
she  was  glad  it  was  only  a  horse  that  excited  him. 
Suppose  it  had  been  one  of  those  pink-faced  girls 
that  Blair  spoke  of  so  contemptuously,  but  who  liked 
his  dashing  manners  and  captivating  ways  only  too 
well,  Mrs.  Blair  thought. 

"  But  suppose,  for  an  instant,  Mr.  Shapleigh  won't 
sell  him,"  persisted  Elizabeth. 

"  But  he  shall  sell  him  !  "  shouted  Blair  for  the 
second  time.  "  What  does  he  want  with  him — to 
drive  him  to  old  lady  Shapleigh's  chaise  ?  I  assure 
you  he  talks  about  Sylvia's  wanting  to  keep  the 
horse  as  a  riding  horse.  It  made  me  grind  my  teeth. 
It  would  be  cruel — yes,  cruel,  Elizabeth,  if  I  didn't 
own  that  horse  !  " 

Elizabeth  was  startled ;  she  said  nothing  more 
about  Alabaster,  and  Blair  went  off  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets  toward  Belneld,  and  in  a  little  while  she 
saw  him  leaning  on  the  fence  that  divided  the  two 
places,  as  the  lands  came  together  at  the  river,  eying 
the  black  horse  that  browsed  about  in  the  pasture  in 
the  late  October  afternoon. 

The  red-brown  pasture-land  glowed  in  the  setting 
sun,  and  the  masses  of  gorgeous  sumac  that  bordered 
the  field  made  great  dashes  of  colour  in  the  land- 
scape. A  worm  fence  divided  the  two  plantations, 
and  upon  this  fence  Blair  leaned,  meditatively  watch- 
ing the  horses  as  they  champed  about  the  field. 
Elizabeth,  who  was  far-sighted,  could  see  him  per- 
fectly well,  his  stalwart  and  somewhat  overgrown 


^6  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

figure  outlined  against  the  twilight  sky.  A  negro 
boy  came  through  the  field  whistling,  and  singing,  to 
drive  the  horses  into  the  stable  lot  at  Belfield.  He 
shied  a  stick  at  Alabaster  to  make  him  move  on.  At 
that  Blair  sprang  over  the  fence,  and,  seizing  the 
boy,  shook  him  so  violently  that  Elizabeth  was 
frightened,  thinking  he  might  really  be  harmed  by 
Blair  in  his  rage. 

He  came  home  moodily,  and  told  Elizabeth  that 
he  believed  he  could  kill  any  creature  that  hurt 
an  animal  as  valuable  as  Alabaster.  Elizabeth  be- 
lieved him,  after  what  she  had  just  seen. 

Next  morning  Blair  went  over  to  bargain  for  the 
horse.  Old  Tom  was  disinclined  to  sell,  and  as  he 
talked  Blair  grew  paler  and  paler.  At  last  old  Tom 
declared  that  Sylvia  might  decide.  He  had  told  her 
the  horse  was  hers.  He  didn't  care  for  the  money 
particularly,  although  the  horse  was  certainly  worth 
a  good  price,  and  was  very  speedy,  but  if  Sylvia 
chose  to  part  with  him  it  was  all  right. 

Sylvia,  on  getting  a  message  from  her  father, 
tripped  down  to  the  stable  lot,  where  the  two  men 
were  talking.  The  morning  was  warm  and  bright, 
even  for  the  bright  October  season,  and  Sylvia  wore 
a  white  dress  and  a  large  black  hat.  She  had  a  wild- 
rose  bloom  in  her  cheek,  and  was  altogether  uncom- 
monly pretty  that  morning.  Blair  was  usually  very 
observant  and  appreciative  of  women's  looks,  but  no 
woman  that  lived  could  have  taken  his  attention  off 
from  Alabaster  at  that  moment.  Old  Tom  stated  the 
case,  and  then  walked  away,  laughing. 

"  You  and  Sylvia  settle  it  between  you,"  he  cried. 
"  If  she  chooses  to  sell  him  I'll  take  what  you  offered 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


97 


me.  If  not,  she  wouldn't  let  me  sell  him  for  the 
whole  of  Newington  plantation." 

"  I  wouldn't  either,  if  he  were  my  property,"  an- 
swered Blair,  with  a  smile  upon  his  handsome  ruddy 
face  that  had,  however,  quite  a  strange  look  upon  it. 

"  Now,  Miss  Sylvia,  can't  you  let  me  have  him  ?" 
he  asked,  as  soon  as  old  Tom  was  out  of  the  way. 

Sylvia  did  not  at  all  take  in  Blair's  intense  desire 
to  own  the  horse.  "  Why,  Mr.  Blair,"  she  said  pet- 
tishly, "  7  want  the  horse.  He  is  a  splendid  riding 
horse,  and  I  have  looked  forward  to  having  him  for 
such  a  long  time." 

Blair  threw  up  his  hands  in  a  kind  of  despair. 
What  creatures  women  were !  Could  they  ever  be 
made  to  understand  the  great  affairs  of  life  ?  Sylvia, 
who  was  quick  of  apprehension,  caught  in  a  moment 
the  look  which  revealed  an  unsuspected  turn  in 
Blair's  character.  His  expression  was  desperate. 

"  But — but — do  you  want  him  very  much  ?  "  sud- 
denly asked  Sylvia. 

"  Want  him ! "  cried  Blair.     "  Great  God  !  " 

Sylvia  looked  at  him  in  dumb  amazement.  Blair's 
features  were  working — he  seemed  to  be  asking  for 
something  as  dear  to  him  as  his  own  children. 

"  I  don't  think  you  know  how  much  I  want  this 
horse,"  he  said,  with  furious  entreaty  in  his  voice  and 
his  eyes.  "  This  horse  is  worth  everything  to  me, 
and  without  him  life  itself  is  worth  nothing  to  me, 
because  I  am  undoubtedly  ruined  unless  I  can  get  a 
horse  to  beat  Skelton's  Jaybird.  Alabaster  can  do 
it.  I  don't  know  of  any  other  horse  that  can.  It  is 
not  only  that  I  may  recoup  what  I  have  lost — for  I 
tell  you  I'd  risk  my  own  soul  almost  on  Alabaster's 


98 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


coming  under  the  wire  first  with  Jaybird — but  there 
is  feud  between  Skelton  and  me,  feud  such  as  you 
never  dreamed  of.  I  hate  him,  and  he  hates  me." 

Sylvia  hesitated  for  a  moment.  Blair  hung  upon 
her  words.  She  was  serious  enough  now.  Her  lips 
moved  once  or  twice  as  she  patted  the  grass  with 
her  foot.  Of  course,  it  was  all  over,  that  childish  ro- 
mance about  Skelton.  She  was  now  a  young  woman 
nearly  out  of  her  twenties,  and  he  was  nearing  his 
fortieth  birthday ;  and,  besides,  she  had  nothing  to 
do  with  any  rivalry  on  the  turf  between  him  and  Mr. 
Blair,  nor  did  she  believe  that  Alabaster  was  as  cer- 
tain to  carry  everything  before  him  as  Blair  thought. 
But — but — she  recoiled  from  being  the  means  of  a 
possible  defeat  to  Skelton.  She  knew  well  enough 
that  there  was  great  feeling  on  both  sides  in  these 
matters  between  Blair  and  Skelton,  and  she  knew 
Skelton  to  be  unforgiving  to  the  last  degree.  She 
raised  her  clear  grey  eyes  to  Blair's  face,  but  the  ex- 
pression on  it  made  her  turn  a  little  pale.  It  was  not 
only  fiercely  entreating,  but  it  had  a  menace  in  it. 
Blair,  indeed,  felt  a  savage  impulse  to  seize  this 
slight  creature  and  actually  force  her  to  let  him  have 
the  horse.  But  the  pity  that  dwells  in  every  woman's 
heart  now  rose  in  Sylvia's.  She  felt  so  sorry  for 
him — he  had  told  her  he  would  be  ruined  if  he  did 
not  get  Alabaster ;  so,  after  a  few  moments,  painful  on 
both  sides,  Sylvia  suddenly  held  out  her  hand,  and 
said : 

"Yes,  you  may  have  him." 

Blair  seized  her  hands  and  kissed  them.  His  face 
changed  to  something  like  what  it  usually  was.  Syl- 
via's eyes  were  full  of  tears;  she  realised  that  he 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


99 


was  really  ruined  then,  although  Blair  spoke  of 
Alabaster  as  destined  to  prevent  it.  Blair  was  so 
eager,  that  he  had  to  take  the  horse  home  with  him. 
Sylvia  walked  slowly  back  to  the  house  through  the 
old-fashioned  garden,  while  Blair,  in  triumph,  rode 
home,  leading  his  treasure.  He  made  Hilary  go  with 
the  horse  to  the  stable,  while  he  went  in  the  house. 
He  felt  the  need  of  rest — he,  this  great,  strong  coun- 
try squire  felt  a  nervous  reaction  after  the  singular 
excitement  of  the  morning. 

"Elizabeth,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "you  accused 
me  of  looking  at  Sylvia  Shapleigh  too  often.  Let 
me  tell  you  something.  I  never  felt  an  impulse  of 
violence  towards  a  woman  in  my  life  until  this  morn- 
ing. But  when  I  saw  her  standing  before  me  so  un- 
concerned and  smiling,  and  making  up  her  mind 
so  deliberately  about  the  horse,  I  declare  to  you,  I 
longed  to — to  seize  her  and  throttle  her  until  she 
came  to  her  senses  and  agreed  to  let  me  have  the 
horse.  There  is  destiny  in  this.  I  wouldn't  so  have 
longed  for  the  creature  if  there  were  not  something 
quite  out  of  the  usual  run  of  events  connected  with 
him." 

Elizabeth  looked  at  her  husband  and  said  noth- 
ing. How  unintelligible  is  human  nature,  after  all ! 
Here,  this  man,  to  whom  she  had  been  married  fifteen 
years,  suddenly  developed  an  intensity,  a  savagery, 
that  she  had  no  more  suspected  than  she  suspected 
a  whirlpool  in  the  placid  river  that  began  its  course 
up  in  the  green  marshes  and  made  its  broad  and 
shallow  way  to  the  sea.  And  it  came  to  her  again 
and  again,  Suppose  it  had  been  not  a  horse,  but  a 
human  being  that  had  aroused  this  vehement  desire 


100  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

of  possession  ?  It  was  enough  to  make  her  turn 
pale. 

"  And,"  continued  Blair,  with  a  smile  that  had 
something  ferocious  in  it,  "  I  shall  beat  Skelton  again 
through  a  woman.  Imagine,  he  might  fall  in  love 
with  Sylvia  Shapleigh,  and  then  find  that  she  had 
furnished  me  with  the  means  to  be  revenged  on  him ! 
Perhaps  Sylvia  is  in  love  with  him,  and  that's  why 
she  didn't  want  to  let  me  have  the  horse." 

"But  he  can't  marry,  you  know,  without  giving 
up  his  wife's  fortune,  and  that  he  would  be  most 
unlikely  to  do,"  said  Elizabeth ;  and  she  adroitly  got 
Blair  off  the  subject  of  Skelton,  and  Skelton's  plans 
and  his  horses,  and  horses  in  general,  and  Alabaster 
in  particular,  on  to  some  less  exciting  topic. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SYLVIA  went  back  into  the  house,  troubled  in 
mind,  and  all  that  day  the  thought  followed  her  that 
she  had  probably  brought  about  Skelton's  defeat  by 
what  she  had  done.  There  was  no  question  of  a 
match  between  Jaybird  and  Alabaster  that  autumn  ; 
but  in  the  spring — however,  much  might  happen  in 
the  meantime,  for  so  Sylvia  consoled  herself,  and 
heartily  wished  that  Alabaster  had  never  been  seen 
or  heard  of. 

There  had  not  been  much  intercourse  between 
Belfield  and  Deerchase  in  the  weeks  that  Skelton 
had  been  at  home.  He  had  promptly  called  after 
the  dinner,  and  it  was  understood  that  he  intended 
giving  a  large  ball  some  time  or  other,  but  beyond 
a  few  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  county  nobody  had 
been  entertained  by  Skelton  at  all. 

Sylvia  could  not  keep  her  eyes  from  wandering 
towards  Deerchase,  for  Skelton  was  a  man  who  al- 
ways aroused  interest,  and  then  her  tender  woman's 
heart  was  very  soft  towards  Lewis  Pryor. 

It  was  generally  agreed  that  there  was  a  mystery 
about  the  boy,  and,  for  no  better  reason  than  this, 
his  existence  was  ignored  by  the  county  gentry,  who 
paid  formal  visits  to  Deerchase,  but  who  did  not  take 

(zoi) 


IO2  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

their  sons  with  them  if  they  happened  to  have  boys 
of  Lewis's  age.  Sylvia  saw  him  every  day — sailing 
his  boat  on  the  river,  fishing  sometimes,  or  lying 
down  under  the  trees  with  his  dog — always  alone. 
Once  or  twice  she  met  him  in  the  road  and  stopped 
and  talked  with  him.  The  boy  was  won  by  her  grace 
and  charming  manners,  and  admired  her  shyly  while 
answering  her  questions,  with  his  black  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground.  After  meeting  her  two  or  three 
times  he  grew  bolder,  and  actually  one  day  left  at 
Belfield  a  bouquet  of  golden  rod,  with  his  compli- 
ments scrawled  in  a  large,  boyish  hand  on  a  card. 
Mrs.  Shapleigh,  passing  through  the  hall  as  Lewis, 
blushing  very  much,  handed  the  bouquet  in,  seized 
upon  it  and  carried  it  off  in  triumph  to  Sylvia. 

"  Just  look,  my  dear  !  No  doubt  it  came  from 
Richard  Skelton,  poor  fellow  !  He  is  just  eating  his 
heart  out  because  he  can't  ask  you  to  marry  him, 
but  still  he  likes  to  pay  you  these  delicate  attentions. 
Wild  flowers,  too — so  much  sentiment !  " 

"  Mamma,"  said  Sylvia  sharply,  "  please  be  rea- 
sonable. Look  at  this :  they  are  from  Lewis  Pryor, 
that  black-eyed  boy  that  is  Mr.  Bulstrode's  ward." 

"And  not  from  Richard  Skelton!  Dear,  dear! 
Do  throw  the  things  out,  Sylvia;  they  are  not  worth 
houseroom.  And,  my  dear,  there  is  some  mystery 
about  that  boy,  and  you'd  better  not  have  anything 
to  do  with  him." 

"Poor  little  Lewis!  The  only  mystery  that  I 
see  about  him  is  that  he  is  young  and  lonely  and 
wants  friends.  I  never  saw  a  more  winning  boy  in 
my  life." 

Something  in  the  gift  touched  Sylvia.    She  real- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


103 


ised,  with  a  smile,  that  Lewis  had  probably  endured 
agonies  of  bashfulness  before  and  after  sending  his 
bouquet.  She  wrote  him  a  pretty  little  note,  and 
sealed  it  with  a  motto  such  as  was  the  fashion  in 
those  days.  Bob  Skinny  presented  the  note  that 
night  at  the  dinner  table  to  Lewis  with  a  great 
flourish. 

"  Miss  Sylvia  Shapleigh,  sah,  sont  you  dis  heah 
billy-doo."  Bob  Skinny  had  not  been  to  Paris  for 
nothing,  and  interlarded  his  conversation  with  such 
scraps  of  French  as  he  could  muster. 

Lewis,  turning  very  red  under  Skelton's  eyfe, 
opened  the  note  and  read  it,  afterwards  putting  it 
into  his  pocket  with  studied  carelessness.  Glancing 
up,  he  saw  Skelton's  gaze,  usually  so  serious,  fixed, 
half  laughingly,  upon  him. 

"  You  have  the  advantage  of  me,  Lewis,"  said 
Skelton,  smiling;  "  I  have  never  been  honoured  with 
a  note  from  Miss  Shapleigh." 

"  Perhaps,  sir,"  answered  Lewis,  after  a  pause, 
"you  never  sent  Miss  Shapleigh  any  flowers." 

Skelton  was  secretly  delighted  with  the  aptness 
of  the  boy's  reply,  and  remarked  pleasantly : 

"  That  is  true.  You  seem,  however,  to  have  got 
the  start  of  me  in  that  respect  too." 

Lewis,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  before  Skelton's 
face,  burst  out  laughing.  Skelton  started  with  sur- 
prise. He  scarcely  knew  the  boy  possessed  a  laugh 
so  fresh,  so  merry,  so  boyish.  Then,  blushing  vio- 
lently, Lewis  relapsed  into  silence,  but  those  few 
words  and  the  laugh  had  in  some  way  shown  him 
that  the  barrier  between  Skelton  and  himself  was 
not  so  icy  after  all. 


104  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

Bulstrode  teased  the  boy  unceasingly  about  his 
bouquet,  but  Lewis  was  not  to  be  turned  from  his 
liking  by  teasing.  Soon  after  the  bouquet  episode 
he  wrote  a  note  in  his  best  hand  and  carefully 
copied  from  the  Complete  Letter-writer,  inviting 
Sylvia  to  take  a  sail  in  his  boat.  Sylvia  accepted, 
and  the  next  morning  she  was  promptly  on  hand  as 
the  boat  touched  the  wharf  at  Belfield. 

Lewis  was  delighted.  It  was  his  first  taste  of  re- 
sponsibility, and  the  idea  that  this  charming  creature 
should  trust  herself  with  him  in  his  boat  seemed  to 
make  a  man  of  him  at  once.  Skelton,  glancing  out 
of  the  library  window,  saw  Lewis  sitting  in  the  stern 
by  Sylvia,  who  was  steering,  while  Service,  the  dog, 
sat  between  them,  his  paws  on  Lewis's  knee. 

Sylvia  might  have  brought  her  whole  battery  of 
charms  to  bear  on  Skelton  with  less  effect  than  by 
her  simple  kindness  to  Lewis.  Skelton  watched  them 
as  the  boat  sailed  gaily  past  in  the  dazzling  morning, 
and  something  like  a  blessing  on  her  stirred  his 
heart.  He  did  not  wish  to  be  with  them;  on  the 
contrary,  he  felt  that  he  could  more  indulge  his 
pleasure  at  a  distance  than  if  he  was  present,  but  he 
felt  a  profound  and  tender  gratitude  to  Sylvia  for 
her  kindness  to  the  boy.  In  the  same  way  he  silently 
but  bitterly  resented  Mrs.  Blair's  not  haying  once 
brought  or  sent  Hilary  to  Deerchase. 

The  next  time  he  met  Sylvia — which  was  when 
riding  along  the  road  one  afternoon — he  stopped 
her,  and  she  was  surprised  at  the  cordiality  of  his 
greeting. 

"  My  young  friend  Lewis  Pryor  seems  to  have  the 
privilege  of  your  friendship  above  all  of  us,"  he  said. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  IO5 

Sylvia  smiled,  and  felt  like  making  a  reply  similar 
to  Lewis's  when  Skelton  asked  him  a  question  of  the 
same  sort;  but  she  merely  said  that  Lewis  was  a 
very  sweet  boy,  and  the  friendship  of  boys  was  apt 
to  be  sincere  and  disinterested. 

"  And  discerning,"  added  Skelton.  "  Boys  are 
very  astute.  I  think  they  lose  some  of  their  astute- 
ness when  they  get  to  be  men." 

Young  women,  as  a  rule,  did  not  interest  Skelton  ; 
but  he  was  drawn  to  study  Sylvia,  first  by  her  kind- 
ness to  Lewis,  and  then  by  the  oddity  of  the. discov- 
ery that  the  daughter  of  Mrs.  Shapleigh  could  have 
so  much  mother-wit  as  Sylvia  undoubtedly  had. 
And  then,  talking  about  trifles  as  their  horses  stood 
in  the  sandy  road,  under  the  bare  overhanging 
branches  of  the  linden  trees  that  lined  the  lane,  the 
talk  drifted  to  the  Jockey  Club.  Skelton  had  just 
come  from  a  meeting,  and  was  evidently  much  in- 
terested in  the  subject. 

"  I  think  everybody  in  the  county  gets  a  species 
of  horse  madness  twice  a  year,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is 
contagious.  I  assure  you,  that  beast  of  mine — Jay- 
bird— takes  up  an  unconscionable  amount  of  my 
time  and  attention.  And,  after  all,  that  black  colt 
which  you  chose  to  call  Alabaster  may  make  me  bite 
the  dust." 

Sylvia  could  not  tell  whether  Skelton  hid  any 
real  resentment  under  his  careless  manner  or  not, 
but  an  impulse  seized  upon  her  to  tell  him  all 
about  it. 

"You  know,  perhaps,"  she  said,  looking  him  full 
in  the  eyes,  "  that  Alabaster  was  mine,  and  I  hated 
the  idea  of  his  being  whipped  and  spurred  as  race 


IO6  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

horses  are ;  and  when  papa  told  me  that  Mr.  Blair 
wanted  him,  I  quite  made  up  my  mind  not  to  part 
with  him.  But  Mr.  Blair  came  over  one  morning, 
and  I  declare,  I  never  saw  such  eagerness — " 

Sylvia  paused.  She  was  getting  upon  delicate 
ground ;  but  Skelton  helped  her  out : 

"Oh,  yes;  Blair  is  a  maniac  upon  the  subject  of 
beating  my  horse.  He  is  scarcely  responsible.  How- 
ever, there  are  pleasanter  things  to  talk  about  than 
horse  racing.  You  have  never  honoured  Deerchase 
yet  with  that  visit  you  promised  me,  to  look  at  my 
pictures." 

"  Because,  whenever  I  ask  papa  or  mamma  to  take 
me,  they  always  say  you  are  busy  on  your  great  book, 
and  I  must  wait  for  an  invitation." 

"  You  shall  wait  no  longer,"  said  Skelton  cour- 
teously; "come  to-morrow — come  to-day." 

As  they  parted  with  a  half  promise  on  Sylvia's 
part  about  the  visit,  she  cantered  briskly  down  the 
lane  while  Skelton  rode  back  slowly  to  Deerchase. 
Ah,  that  book  !  He  had  made  apologies  and  excuses 
to  himself  for  not  writing  it  for  fifteen  years  past. 
A  desperate  apprehension  of  failure  haunted  him. 
Suppose  all  this  brilliant  promise  should  come  to 
naught !  And  it  was  his  sole  resource  under  any 
circumstances.  He  was  too  old,  and  he  had  tasted 
too  many  pleasures,  to  make  pleasure  an  object  with 
him  any  longer.  Domestic  life  he  was  shut  out  from, 
unless  he  chose  to  pay  a  price  even  more  preposterous 
for  it  than  people  imagined ;  for,  although  the  county 
was  not  without  information  regarding  Skelton's 
affairs,  there  were  some  particulars,  peculiarly  gall- 
ing to  him,  that  only  a  few  persons  in  the  world 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


ID/ 


knew.  Skelton  was  the  last  man  on  earth  to  submit 
easily  to  any  restrictions,  but  those  laid  upon  him  by 
the  jealous  fondness  of  the  dead  woman  sometimes 
made  him  grind  his  teeth  when  he  thought  of  them. 
Often  he  would  rise  from  his  bed  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  and  walk  the  floor  for  hours,  tormented  with 
the  sense  of  having  been  robbed  of  his  personal 
liberty  and  of  being  a  slave  in  the  midst  of  all  his 
power.  For  the  late  Mrs.  Skelton,  who  married  him 
from  the  purest  infatuation,  so  bitterly  resented  the 
opposition  of  her  family  to  her  marriage  with  Skel- 
ton, that  she  determined,  even  in  the  event  of  his 
marrying  again,  that  they  at  least  should  not  profit 
by  it.  But  in  carrying  out  this  fine  scheme  a  woman 
and  three  lawyers  managed  to  create  a  complication 
that  was  calculated  to  infuriate  any  man;  and  could 
she  have  risen  from  her  grave  and  have  known  the 
result  of  her  handiwork,  her  chagrin  would  have 
been  only  second  to  Skelton's. 

Skelton  did  not,  for  a  wonder,  hate  his  wife's 
memory  for  this.  He  was  singularly  just  in  his  tem- 
perament, and  he  only  hated  the  three  lawyers,  who 
pocketed  each  a  great  fee  for  making  a  will  that 
palpably  defeated  its  own  object — a  not  uncommon 
occurrence.  Although  he  had  not  fully  returned  the 
passionate  devotion  of  his  wife,  he  had  yet  loved 
her  and  felt  deeply  grateful  to  her,  more  for  her 
devotion  than  her  money  ;  for  the  secret  of  Mrs. 
Skelton's  devotion  had  been  the  knowledge  that,  after 
all,  Skelton  had  not  married  her  for  her  money.  Bui- 
strode  always  said  that  Skelton  married  her  to  spite 
her  relations.  Certain  it  is,  the  declaration  of  the 
great  family  to  which  she  belonged,  that  she  never 


I08  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

should  marry  Skelton,  did  more  to  precipitate  his 
offer  than  anything  else.  Afterwards  his  kindness  to 
her,  his  delicacy,  and  the  conviction  that  he  did  not 
know  how  absolutely  she  was  mistress  of  her  own 
fortune,  deeply  impressed  her  affectionate  nature. 
In  her  last  illness,  which  came  before  she  had  been 
married  six  months,  the  greed,  the  rapacity,  the 
heartlessness  of  her  own  family  was  in  marked  con- 
trast to  Skelton's  delicate  reticence.  He  declined  to 
talk  of  her  money,  either  to  her  or  her  lawyers;  he 
left  the  room  when  she  asked  his  wishes;  he  could 
not  bargain  with  a  creature  so  young,  so  tender,  and 
so  short  a  time  for  this  world.  But  he  reaped  his 
reward,  only  with  some  results  that  nobody  ever 
dreamed  of,  and  which  made  Skelton  in  his  heart 
denounce  the  whole  tribe  of  lawyers  as  dolts,  dunder- 
heads, rascals,  cheats,  frauds,  and  incapables. 

But  although  he  very  much  doubted  whether  he 
ever  would  have  cared  to  risk  the  matrimonial  yoke 
again,  it  was  inexpressibly  irritating  to  him  to  know 
that  he  could  not,  and  that  everybody  knew  he  could 
not.  He  noticed,  sardonically,  the  manoeuvring 
mothers  and  designing  daughters  gave  faint  indica- 
tions that  he  was  not  in  the  running;  and  worldly- 
wise  young  women  would  be  likely  to  be  shy  of  his 
attentions,  for  they  could  mean  nothing.  Skelton 
gave  them  no  cause  to  be  shy  of  him,  but  the  whole 
thing  humiliated  him.  There  was  that  charming 
Sylvia — so  thought  Skelton,  sitting  in  the  library 
that  afternoon  with  a  book  in  his  hand  which  he  was 
not  reading — she  entertained  him  vastly ;  but  no 
doubt  that  fool  of  a  mother  had  canvassed  his  affairs 
and  his  status,  and  had  put  notions  in  the  girl's  head. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


109 


He  was  half  sorry  that  he  had  asked  her  there,  for 
to-morrow  he  meant  to  make  a  fair  start  on  his  book, 
to  which  he  had  so  far  written  only  the  introduc- 
tion. 

The  next  day  Sylvia  and  her  father  came  over  to 
luncheon,  Mrs.  Shapleigh  being  ill — to  Skelton's  great 
joy.  Bulstrode  rarely  came  to  the  table,  and  never 
when  ladies  were  present ;  so  there  were  only  Skelton 
and  Lewis  Pryor  and  old  Tom  Shapleigh  and  his 
daughter. 

Lewis  was  delighted  to  see  Sylvia,  and  showed  his 
pleasure  by  shy,  adoring  glances  and  vivid  blushes 
whenever  she  smiled  at  him.  Things  at  Deerchase 
appeared  very  grand  to  Sylvia's  provincial  eyes,  but 
she  seemed  to  fit  easily  and  gracefully  into  the  sur- 
roundings. Skelton  had  never  lacked  for  charm,  and 
he  was  impelled  to  do  his  best  in  his  own  house. 
Old  Tom  tried  to  talk  racing  once  or  twice,  but  Skel- 
ton adroitly  headed  him  off.  He  fascinated  Sylvia 
with  his  conversation.  It  was  thoroughly  unaffected, 
racy,  full  of  anecdote,  and  all  about  things  that  Syl- 
via wanted  to  know.  Skelton  had  been  to  Abbots- 
ford,  and  had  spent  some  days  under  the  great  man's 
roof.  He  had  travelled  post  with  Byron,  and  had 
walked  with  Goethe  in  his  garden  at  Weimar.  To  a 
girl  at  that  time  and  in  that  part  of  the  world  all 
this  was  a  splendid  dream.  Sylvia  looked  at  Skelton 
with  new  eyes.  That  brown,  sinewy  hand  had  touched 
Byron's;  that  musical  voice  had  talked  with  Scott 
and  Goethe ;  he  had  walked  over  the  field  of  Water- 
loo, and  knew  London  and  Paris  like  a  book.  Skel- 
ton was  pleased  and  amused  with  Sylvia's  breathless 
interest — her  innocent  wonder  at  many  very  simple 


IIO  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

things.  Much  of  it  was  new  to  Lewis,  and  when 
Sylvia  turned  to  him  and  said : 

"Ah,  Lewis!  is  it  not  delightful?"  Lewis  an- 
swered : 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  so  delightful  for  us  to  hear  it  to- 
gether." 

Lewis  was  not  quite  conscious  of  the  meaning  of 
what  he  said,  but  a  roar  from  old  Tom,  and  much 
laughter  from  Skelton,  and  Sylvia's  retiring  behind 
her  fan,  made  him  blush  more  than  ever  and  abstain 
from  further  communications  with  Sylvia. 

After  luncheon  and  the  pictures,  old  Tom  would 
by  no  means  be  denied  a  visit  to  the  stables  and  Jay- 
bird, so  Sylvia  was  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Bob 
Skinny  as  cicerone,  who  showed  her  the  greenhouses 
and  gardens.  Lewis  kept  close  to  her,  and  plucked 
up  spirit  enough  to  squeeze  her  hand  whenever  he 
had  half  a  chance,  and  to  offer  to  take  her  out  in  his 
boat  every  day  if  she  would  go.  Bob  Skinny  was 
in  his  glory.  He  wore  a  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons, 
and  a  huge  cambric  ruffle  decorated  with  cotton  lace 
adorned  his  shirt-front.  If  Bob  Skinny  had  had  any- 
thing whatever  to  do  in  the  way  of  work,  this  style 
of  dress  would  have  been  an  impossibility;  but  as 
he  managed  to  make  the  other  negroes  do  his  work, 
while  he  devoted  himself  to  answering  Skelton's  bell, 
to  the  care  of  his  own  person,  and  playing  the  "  fluke," 
he  could  afford  to  be  a  magnificent  coxcomb. 

"Now,  Miss  Sylvy,"  he  began  loftily,  "of  co'se 
Mr.  Skelton  an'  me  is  got  sumpin'  else  ter  do  den  to 
go  circumventin'  roun'  dese  heah  flowers  an'  truck. 
We  has  got  our  gre't  work  on  philosophy  ter  write. 
Fifteen  thousan'  books  in  dat  ar  libery,  Miss  Sylvy ; 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  Iir 

fifteen  thousan',  ez  sho'  as  I'se  Mr.  Skelton's  vally — 
not  dat  I  breshes  his  clo's  none,  nor  black  he  boots; 
Jake,  he  do  dat  kin'  o'  demeanin'  work." 

"  But  I  see  you  are  the  butler,  Bob,"  remarked 
Sylvia,  thinking  this  an  astute  bit  of  flattery. 

"You  is  mistaken,  miss,"  answered  Bob  with  dig- 
nified tartness.  "  I  is  de  major  domo  ;  Sam  Trotter, 
he  de  butler.  You  see,  I'se  had  de  adwantages  o' 
trabel,  an'  I  kin  read  an'  wrote,  an'  play  de  fluke,  an* 
dem  'complishments  is  wasted  in  a  butler ;  but  dey 
is  mighty  fitten  for  a  major  domo,  who  is  quite  a 
'nother  kind  o'  pusson,  Miss  Sylvy." 

"  So  I  perceive,"  answered  Sylvia  hastily,  and  ex- 
changing looks  with  Lewis. 

"  Now,  when  Mr.  Skelton  was  a-tellin*  you  dem 
inwentions  o'  his'n  'bout  Mr.  Byrum  an'  de  Duke  o' 
Scott  an'  Lord  Gayety,  he  didn'  tole  you  dat  I  wuz 
'long  too,  an'  I  done  play  de  fluke  for  ev'y  one  of 
'em ;  an'  dey  ev'y  one  ax  Mr.  Skelton  what  he  would 
tooken  for  me — 'kase  dey  doan'  hab  nuttin'  but 
white  niggers  ober  d'yar,  an'  dey  all  mighty  glad 
ter  git  er  cullud  gent'man  ter  wait  on  'em.  But 
Mr.  Skelton  he  tole  de  Duke  o'  Scott,  <  I  wouldn't 
part  wid  Bob  Skinny  for  de  whole  o'  yo'  ole  Rab- 
bitsford.'  Dis  heah  is  de  truf  I'se  tellin'  you,  Miss 
Sylvy." 

"  Of  course,  Bob,"  remarked  Sylvia  affably. 

"  Bob,"  said  Lewis  gravely,  "  tell  Miss  Sylvia 
about  the  Duke  of  Wellington." 

"  Hi,  little  marse,  Miss  Sylvy  she  doan'  want  ter 
hear  nuttin'  'bout  de  Duke  o'  Wellington,"  replied 
Bob,  immensely  flattered,  but  desiring  to  be  pressed. 

"  Indeed  I  do,  Bob !  "  cried  Sylvia,  seating  herself 


H2  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

in  a  rustic  settee  with  Lewis,  while  Bob  struck  an 
attitude  before  her. 

"  Well,  Miss  Sylvy,  I  tell  you  I  doan'  think  much 
o'  de  duke.  He  what  I  call  po'  white  trash,  'kase  he 
ain*  got  no  manners;  an'  I  done  see  de  worl',  an'  I 
allus  knowed  a  gent'man  when  I  see  him.  I  wuz 
walkin*  long  in  de  park  in  London  one  day — dey  got 
a  gre't  place  wid  trees  an'  grass  an'  flowers,  an'  dey 
calls  it  a  park — an'  I  see  de  duke  a-comin'  'long, 
walkin'  by  hisse'f.  He  was  monst'ous  homely,  an'  he 
clo's  warn't  no  better'n  mine,  an'  I  tho't  I'd  spoke 
ter  him;  so  I  jes'  step  up,  an'  I  say,  'Sarvant,  sah, 
I'se  Mr.  Skelton's  vally,  from  Deerchase,  Virginny, 
de  bigges*  plantation  an'  de  mo'es*  niggers — '  '  Git 
out  o'  my  way,  feller! '  says  de  duke,  wavin'  he  stick 
at  me.  I  wuz  gwine  tell  him  all  'bout  de  Skeltons, 
an'  pay  him  my  'spects,  but  arter  dat  I  didn'  tuk  no 
mo'  notice  on*  him,  dough  I  see  him  ev'y  day  strama- 
nadin*  in  de  park.  I  reckon,  ef  he  had  done  listen 
when  I  say  I  wuz  Mr.  Skelton's  vally,  he'd  er  been  ez 
perlite  ez  a  dancin'  master,  'kase  he  mus'  'a'  knowed 
all  'bout  Mr.  Skelton  an'  Deerchase.  But,  Miss  Syl- 
vy, I  doan'  keer  much  'bout  dem  gre't  folks  ober 
d'yar.  You  dunno  ef  dey  is  de  fust  families  or  not. 
An'  ez  for  dem  white  niggers  dat  waits  on  'em,  I 
wouldn'  demean  myse'f  to  'sociate  wid  'em  under  no 
desideratum." 

Bob  Skinny  then  branched  off  into  denunciation 
of  the  other  negroes  at  Deerchase,  to  whom  he  fan- 
cied himself  as  much  superior  as  if  he  were  a  being 
on  a  higher  planet.  There  was  war  to  the  knife  be- 
tween them  naturally,  which  was  very  much  height- 
ened by  Bob's  being  a  "backslider."  Bob  had  been 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY.  113 

in  the  habit  of  "  gittin'  'ligion  "  regularly  once  a 
year  at  the  revival  meetings  until  Skelton  took  him 
to  Europe.  As  the  result  of  his  "  trabels  "  he  had 
taken  up  the  notion,  which  was  not  entirely  unknown 
among  his  betters,  that  it  was  more  elegant  and  re- 
cherche to  be  without  a  religion  than  to  have  one. 
Consequently,  Bob  returned  full  of  infinite  contempt 
for  the  Hard-shell  Baptists,  the  shouting  Methodists, 
and  all  the  other  religions  that  flourished  among  the 
negroes. 

"  You  see,  Miss  Sylvy,"  he  explained  argumenta- 
tively,  "now  I  done  see  de  worl'  an' kin  read  an' 
wrote  an'  play  on  de  fluke,  what  I  want  wid  dis  heah 
nigger  'ligion  ?  I'se  a  philosopher."  Bob  brought 
this  out  magnificently.  "  I  say  ter  dem  niggers, 
'  What  is  it  in  'ligion  ?  Nuttin'  'tall.  What  is  it  in 
philosophy  ?  De  truf,  de  whole  truf,  an'  nuttin'  but 
de  truf.'  I  ain'  seen  none  on  'em  yit  kin  answer  my 
argufyin'." 

After  a  while  old  Tom  and  Skelton  came  into  the 
greenhouse,  where  Bob  was  still  holding  forth  and 
giving  the  botanical  names  of  the  plants  according 
to  his  own  vernacular,  but  Bob  shut  up  promptly  as 
soon  as  Skelton  appeared.  Sylvia's  hands  were  full 
of  flowers,  given  her  by  Lewis.  The  two  had  got 
very  intimate  now,  and  Lewis  wore  an  air  of  boyish 
triumph.  It  was  not  worth  while  for  Skelton  to  offer 
her  any  flowers  if  he  had  desired,  she  had  so  many. 

They  had  walked  over  from  Belfield  across  the 
bridge,  and  when  they  started  to  return  Skelton  and 
Lewis  walked  with  them,  Lewis  still  hanging  about 
Sylvia,  so  that  Skelton,  who  had  meant  to  walk  home 
with  her,  was  entirely  thrown  out.  On  the  way  they 


II4  CHILDREN   OF   DESJINY. 

met  Bulstrode  lumbering  across  the  lawn  with  a  book 
in  his  hand.  Sylvia  stopped  and  spoke  to  him  pleas- 
antly. He  remained  looking  after  her,  watching  her 
slight  figure  as  she  went  across  the  bridge,  still  gal- 
lantly escorted  by  Lewis. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  would  have  jilted  Skelton  as 
Mrs.  Blair  did,"  he  thought. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  days  passed  on  quickly  enough  at  Deerchase, 
but  not  very  satisfactorily.  Skelton  took  eagerly  to 
the  racing  scheme,  and,  with  a  little  diplomacy  on 
each  side,  a  match  was  arranged  for  the  spring  meet- 
ing between  Jaybird  and  Alabaster.  Skelton  him- 
self did  not  appear  at  all  in  the  transaction ;  it  was 
conducted  solely  between  Miles  Lightfoot,  the  facto- 
tum, and  Blair  himself.  With  superior  judgment  to 
Blair,  Skelton  did  not  by  any  means  regard  the 
match  as  settled ;  he  preferred  to  wait  until  it  was 
run.  But  he  took  the  most  intense  interest  in  it,  and 
the  thought  of  paying  Blair  off  for  his  folly  and  pre- 
sumption was  agreeable  enough  to  him.  Then,  this 
new  amusement  gave  him  something  to  do,  for  the 
work  that  he  would  have  done  continually  eluded  him. 
He  spent  many  solitary  hours  in  the  great,  beautiful 
library  with  piles  of  books  and  manuscript  before 
him,  and  when  a  knock  came  at  the  door  he  was  apt 
to  be  found  pen  in  hand,  as  if  hard  at  work.  But 
many  of  those  solitary  hours  were  spent  in  a  hor- 
rible idleness — horrible  because  he  felt  the  time  was 
slipping  by  and  nothing  was  being  done. 

Not  even  Bulstrode  knew  of  those  long  days  of 
depression,  or  that  Miles  Lightfoot,  with  his  swagger 


H6  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

and  his  continual  boasting  that  Blair  was  to  be  driven 
off  the  turf  altogether,  was  in  the  nature  of  a  relief 
to  an  overstrained  mind.  Miles  Lightfoot  was  a 
continual  offense  to  Bulstrode,  who  was  disgusted  at 
seeing  books  and  papers  and  everything  swept  off 
the  library  table  to  make  room  for  racing  calendars 
and  all  of  Miles's  paraphernalia. 

As  for  Lewis,  his  mind  seemed  to  have  taken  a 
sudden  start.  He  had  been  thrown  with  Skelton  as 
he  never  had  been  before  in  his  life,  and  from  a  dim 
wonder  what  Skelton's  position  to  him  was,  came  an- 
other wonder  as  to  his  own  position  at  Deerchase. 

Apparently  nothing  could  be  more  fixed  or  agree- 
able. The  servants  called  him  "  little  marse,"  and 
seemed  to  regard  him  as  their  future  master ;  he  had 
the  run  of  the  house,  the  stables,  the  gardens,  and 
nobody  questioned  his  right.  But  Skelton  was  not 
only  no  relation  to  him,  but  not  even  his  guardian. 
And  then  he  had  not  made  friends  with  any  boy  in 
the  county,  except  Hilary  Blair,  and  Hilary  never 
came  to  Deerchase,  nor  had  he  ever  been  to  Newing- 
ton.  Indeed,  as  Lewis  thought,  with  tears  starting 
to  his  eyes,  the  only  real  friend  he  had  in  the  world 
was  Sylvia  Shapleigh.  Her  kindness  made  a  power- 
ful impression  upon  his  affectionate  nature.  He 
loved  her  the  more  because  he  had  so  few  things  to 
love.  He  sometimes  determined  that  he  would  ask 
Mr.  Bulstrode,  or  perhaps  even  Mr.  Skelton,  why  he 
had  no  boy  friends,  but  he  never  did  it  when  he 
thought  he  would. 

Bulstrode  had  taken  a  great  interest  in  Mrs. 
Blair,  partly  from  curiosity  about  the  woman  who 
had  dared  to  jilt  Richard  Skelton,  and  partly  from  a 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


II/ 


reason  connected  with  that  preposterous  will  of  the 
late  Mrs.  Skelton — for  Elizabeth  Blair  was  Skelton's 
only  near  relative.  The  interest  had  been  followed 
by  a  real  esteem  for  her,  due  chiefly  to  a  remark 
made  quite  innocently  when  Bulstrode  went  to  New- 
ington  one  evening.  Mrs.  Blair  was  teaching  Hilary 
his  Latin  lesson,  while  Blair,  who  was  a  university 
man,  guyed  her  unmercifully  as  he  lay  stretched  out 
in  a  great  chair. 

"When  did  you  learn  Latin,  my  dear  madam  ?" 
asked  Bulstrode,  with  a  benevolent  grin. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Bulstrode,  I  never  learned  Latin  at  all," 
answered  Mrs.  Blair,  with  a  smile  and  a  blush ;  "  I 
learned  a  few  nouns  and  verbs  long  years  ago,  and 
now  that  I  must  teach  Hilary,  I  have  furbished  them 
up  a  little  for  his  benefit." 

Her  modesty  pleased  Bulstrode,  who  was  dis- 
gusted by  any  assumption  of  learning. 

"  Now,  my  boy,"  he  said  to  Hilary,  "  do  you  like 
Latin  ?  " 

"  First  rate,"  answered  Hilary  sturdily.  "  Like  it 
better'n  any  lesson  I've  got.  Wish  I  could  read  it 
like  you  do,  Mr.  Bulstrode." 

Bulstrode  was  delighted. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Blair,"  he  cried,  turning  to  her, 
"  you  have  done  more  than  1  could  do — you  have 
made  the  boy  like  the  undying  language.  If  I  could 
only  do  that  with  Lewis  Pryor !  The  boy  is  bright 
enough — bright  enough — but  he  wants  to  be  reading 
modern  histories  and  romances  all  the  time." 

Mrs.  Blair  coloured  slightly  at  the  mention  of 
Lewis  Pryor.  She  knew  all  about  the  surreptitious 
friendship  between  the  two  boys,  and  if  Blair  would 


TI8  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

have  allowed  it  she  would  have  had  Lewis  at  New- 
ington  sometimes.  But  Blair  swore  it  should  not 
be.  For  want  of  something  better  to  say,  she  asked  : 

"  How  are  you  all  coming  on  at  Deerchase  ?" 

"  Deuced  badly,"  answered  Bulstrode,  with  can- 
did disapproval.  "  Nothing  but  the  damnable  races, 
morning,  noon,  and  night.  Do  you  know  Miles 
Lightfoot  ?  " 

Mrs.  Blair  gave  a  little  shudder. 

•'  Yes,  I  know  him,"  she  answered. 

"  The  fellow  was  born  a  gentleman  and  bred  one, 
I  hear,"  continued  Bulstrode  with  energy,  "  but 
rides  for  pay  in  any  sort  of  a  race  that  he  can  get  a 
mount.  I  ain't  a  gentleman  myself,  Mrs.  Blair,  but 
I  know  one  when  I  see  him,  and  Miles  Lightfoot  has 
ceased  to  be  a  gentleman  these  ten  years  past.  Well, 
he's  fairly  domiciled  at  Deerchase.  He  is  in  charge 
of  the  Deerchase  stable.  Instead  of  Bulstrode  and 
the  library,  Skelton  is  all  for  Lightfoot  and  the 
stables.  Don't  know  what  made  our  friend  Skelton 
take  up  this  craze,  but  he's  got  it,  and  he's  got  an  ob- 
ject in  it." 

"  What  is  his  object  ?  "  timidly  asked  Mrs.  Blair — 
the  boy  had  gone  off  then  with  his  book,  and  was  en- 
gaged in  a  good-natured  teasing  contest  with  his 
father.  Blair's  children  adored  him,  and  thought 
him  precisely  their  own  age. 

"  I'm  dashed  if  I  know,"  cried  Bulstrode,  rum- 
pling up  his  shock  of  grizzly,  unkempt  hair.  "But 
that  he's  got  an  object —  Lord,  Mrs.  Blair,  did  you 
ever  know  Richard  Skelton  to  do  anything  without 
an  object  ? " 

"  It   has  been  a  good  many  years  since  I  knew 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  ug 

anything  of  Richard  Skelton,"  she  said,  with  pretty 
hypocrisy ;  at  which  Bulstrode  roared  out  his  great, 
vulgar,  good-natured  "  Haw  !  haw  !  haw !  " 

"  Mr.  Blair  called  at  Deerchase  when  Mr.  Skelton 
returned,  and  Mr.  Skelton  has  paid  me  one  visit, 
when  he  stayed  exactly  twenty  minutes." 

But  all  the  time  her  heart  was  beating  painfully. 
She  knew  Skelton's  object — it  was,  to  ruin  her  hus- 
band. Bulstrode  kept  up  his  haw-hawing. 

"You  wouldn't  marry  Skelton,  ma'am,  and  you 
showed  your  sense.  There  are  worse  men  than  he 
in  the  world,  but  if  I  were  a  woman  I'd  rather  marry 
the  devil  himself  than  Richard  Skelton." 

"  But  he  got  on  very  well  with  his  first  wife,  didn't 
he?"  asked  Mrs.  Blair,  with  all  a  woman's  curiosity. 

"  O  Lord,  yes!  She  worshipped  the  ground  he 
trod  on.  It's  the  most  curious  thing,  the  way  human 
affairs  always  go  contrary.  Skelton,  although  he  is 
a  rich  man,  was  disinterestedly  loved,  because  his 
fortune  was  nothing  to  his  wife's — and  he  had  no  rank 
to  give  her.  But  she  was  an  Honourable  in  her  own 
right.  And,  stranger  still,  I  believe  he  was  disinter- 
ested in  marrying  her.  I  always  said  he  did  it  to 
spite  her  family.  She  had  a  lot  of  toploftical  rela- 
tions— she  was  related  to  half  the  peerage  and  all 
the  baronetage — and  they  got  to  hectoring  her  about 
Skelton's  attentions,  when  I  do  assure  you,  madam, 
I  don't  think  he  had  any  notion  of  falling  in  love 
with  her.  They  tried  to  hector  Skelton.  Great 
powers  of  heaven!  You  can  just  imagine  how  the 
scheme  worked,  or  rather  how  it  didn't  work  !  "  Here 
Bulstrode  winked  portentously.  "  The  lady  was  her 
own  mistress  and  could  control  every  stiver  of  her 


I2Q  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

money,  and  one  fine  morning  she  walked  off  to 
church  and  married  Skelton  without  any  marriage 
settlement!  When  it  was  done  and  over,  the  great 
folks  wanted  to  make  friends  with  him,  but  Skelton 
wouldn't  have  it  at  all.  He  held  his  own  with  the 
best  of  'em.  One  secret  of  Skelton's  power  is  that 
he  don't  give  a  damn  for  anybody.  Skelton  's  a  gen- 
tleman, you  know.  Then  the  poor  young  woman 
was  taken  ill,  and  her  relations  got  to  bothering  her 
with  letters  about  what  she  was  going  to  do  with  her 
money.  Mrs.  Skelton  used  to  try  and  talk  to  Skelton 
about  it — I  was  with  him  then — but  he  would  get  up 
and  go  out  of  the  room  when  she  mentioned  the  sub- 
ject. He's  a  very  delicate-minded  man  where  money 
is  concerned.  And  then  she  sent  for  her  lawyers,  and 
they  made  her  a  will,  madam,  which  she  signed,  after 
having  made  some  alterations  in  it  with  her  own 
hand.  And  such  a  will  as  it  turned  out  to  be  !  Lord, 
Lord,  Lord ! " 

Bulstrode  rose  and  walked  about  the  room  ex- 
citedly. Mrs.  Blair  watched  him  breathlessly.  Blair 
had  stopped  his  play  with  Hilary,  and  was  listening 
with  all  his  ears.  When  the  string  of  Bulstrode's 
tongue  was  unloosed  he  usually  stopped  at  nothing. 
But  now  he  was  restrained.  He  had  gone  as  far 
as  he  dared,  but  he  looked  hard  at  Mrs.  Blair,  and 
said: 

"  You  are  Skelton's  nearest  relative — ain't  you, 
madam  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Blair,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I 
am  his  first  cousin — and  I  am  the  last  of  my  family." 

"  Lord,  Lord,  Lord  !  "  shouted  Bulstrode  again, 
then  relapsed  into  silence,  and  suddenly  burst  into 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  121 

his  great  laugh.  Mrs.  Blair  felt  uncomfortable  and 
perplexed,  and  Blair  got  up  and  left  the  room. 

Bulstrode  said  no  more  of  Skelton,  and  went  back 
to  his  grievances  about  the  racing,  and  then  took  up 
the  Latin  grammar  again.  Mrs.  Blair,  who  had  a  very 
just  estimate  of  her  own  knowledge  of  Latin,  had  an 
inordinately  high  one  of  Blair's  acquirements  in  that 
respect. 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Bulstrode,"  she  said,  "  Mr.  Blair 
is  really  a  very  fine  scholar.  He  was  quite  a  distin- 
guished Latinist  when  he  was  at  William  and  Mary." 

Bulstrode  sniffed  openly  at  Blair's  scholarship 
and  William  and  Mary. 

"  Then  he  ought  to  teach  your  boy,  ma'am.  I 
swear,  Mrs.  Blair,  it  addles  my  brain  sometimes  when 
I  see  the  beauty  and  splendour  of  the  passion  you 
women  bestow  on  your  husbands  and  children." 

Mrs.  Blair's  face  flushed  a  little,  and  a  beautiful 
angry  light  burned  in  her  eyes,  as  it  always  did  at  the 
slightest  implication  that  Blair  was  not  perfect. 

"  Luckily  for  me,"  she  said,  with  a  little  arrogant 
air,  "  my  husband  and  children  are  worthy  of  it.  All 
that  I  know  of  unworthy  husbands  and  children  is 
about  other  women's  husbands  and  children." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  eagerly  assented  Bulstrode,  and  then 
went  off  again  on  the  subject  of  his  grievances  about 
Miles  Lightfoot  and  the  races,  and  even  that  Lewis 
Pryor  was  getting  too  fond  of  the  stables  and  stayed 
there  too  much,  and  he  meant  to  speak  to  Skelton 
about  it. 

Bulstrode  left  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blair  under  the  im- 
pression that  there  was  some  queer  complication  con- 
nected with  the  late  Mrs.  Skelton's  money,  with  which 


I22  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

they  were  mixed  up,  and  it  gave  rise  naturally  to 
much  speculation  on  their  part. 

They  talked  it  over  a  great  deal,  but  they  had 
nothing  positive  to  go  upon.  Elizabeth,  womanlike, 
tried  to  dismiss  it  from  her  mind,  and  the  more  so 
when  she  saw  that  Blair  was  deeply  pondering  it.  At 
all  events,  Skelton  would  keep  his  own  until  his 
death,  for  neither  of  them  believed  he  would  marry 
again ;  and  as  he  was  not  quite  forty — some  years 
younger  than  Blair  himself — it  was  idle  to  think  too 
much  about  what  was  so  far  in  the  future. 

Bulstrode  was  as  good  as  his  word  about  Lewis 
Pryor,  and  the  very  next  day  made  his  complaint 
about  Lewis  to  Skelton. 

"  Send  him  to  me,"  said  Skelton  briefly. 

In  due  time  Lewis  stood  before  Skelton  in  the 
library,  through  whose  diamond-paned  windows  the 
woods  and  fields  glowed  beautifully  under  the  red 
December  sun.  Skelton  began  in  his  calm,  reason- 
able voice : 

"  Lewis,  Mr.  Bulstrode  tells  me  that  you  spend 
most  of  your  time  with  Yellow  Jack  and  the  stable- 
men, instead  of  at  your  books.  How  is  this  ? " 

"  Because,  sir,"  answered  Lewis,  "  I  am  very  fond 
of  horses,  and  I'm  not  doing  any  harm  down  at  the 
stables." 

Skelton  turned  and  faced  the  boy,  whose  tone 
was  perfectly  respectful,  but  it  was  that  of  one  dis- 
posed to  argue  the  point.  As  Lewis's  eyes  met  his, 
Skelton  was  struck  by  their  beauty — they  were  so 
deeply,  so  beautifully  black,  and  the  very  same  idea 
came  into  Lewis's  mind — "  What  black,  black  eyes 
Mr.  Skelton  has !  " 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


123 


Skelton's  memory  went  back  twenty-five  years. 
How  wonderfully  like  was  the  little  scamp's  coolness 
to  his  own  in  the  bygone  days,  when  old  Tom  Shap- 
leigh  would  come  over  to  rail  and  bluster  at  him ! 

"  At  present,"  continued  Skelton,  smiling  a  little, 
"  horses  and  horse-racing  cannot  take  up  a  great  deal 
of  your  time.  It  is  your  business  to  fit  yourself  for 
your  manhood.  You  have  every  advantage  for  ac- 
quiring the  education  of  a  gentleman.  Bulstrode, 
with  all  his  faults,  is  the  best-educated  man  I  ever 
met ;  and,  besides,  it  is  my  wish,  my  command,  that 
you  shall  be  studious." 

"  But,  Mr.  Skelton,"  said  Lewis,  with  strange  com- 
posure, and  as  if  asking  a  simple  question,  "  while  I 
know  you  are  very  generous  to  me,  why  do  you  com- 
mand me?  Mr.  Bulstrode  is  my  guardian." 

The  boy's  audacity  and  the  shock  of  finding  that 
his  mind  had  begun  to  dwell  on  his  status  at  Deer- 
chase,  completely  staggered  Skelton.  Moreover, 
Lewis's  composure  was  so  inflexible,  his  eyes  so  in- 
domitable, that  he  all  at  once  seemed  to  reach  the 
mental  stature  of  a  man.  Skelton  was  entirely  at  a 
loss  how  to  answer  him,  and  for  a  moment  the  two 
pairs  of  black  eyes,  so  wonderfully  alike,  met  in  an 
earnest  gaze. 

"I  cannot  explain  that  to  you  now,"  answered 
Skelton  after  a  little  pause ;  "  but  I  think  you  will 
see  for  yourself  that  at  Deerchase  I  must  be  obeyed. 
Now,  in  regard  to  your  continual  presence  at  the 
stables,  it  must  stop.  I  do  not  forbid  you  to  go, 
altogether,  but  you  must  go  much  less  than  you  have 
been  doing,  and  you  must  pay  more  attention  to  your 
studies.  You  may  go." 


124 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


Lewis  went  out  and  Skelton  returned  to  his  books. 
But  he  was  strangely  shaken.  That  night  he  said  to 
Bulstrode,  after  Lewis  had  gone  to  bed : 

"  What  promise  there  is  in  the  boy !  I  don't 
mean  promise  of  genius — God  forbid !  he  will  write 
no  Voices  of  the  People  at  nineteen — but  of  great 
firmness  of  character  and  clearness  of  intellect." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  are  so  down  on  genius," 
said  Bulstrode,  not  without  latent  malice.  "  You 
were  always  reckoned  a  genius  yourself." 

"  That  is  why  I  would  not  have  Lewis  reckoned 
one  mistakenly,  as  I  have  been.  There  is  something 
not  altogether  human  about  genius ;  it  is  always  a 
miracle.  It  places  a  man  apart  from  his  fellows. 
He  is  an  immortal  among  mortals.  He  is  a  man 
among  centaurs.  Give  a  man  all  the  talent  he  can 
carry,  but  spare  him  genius  if  you  would  have  him 
happy.  There  must  be  geniuses  in  the  world,  but 
let  not  Lewis  Pryor  be  one  of  them,  nor  let  him — let 
him  be  falsely  reckoned  one !  " 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  races  had  always  been  a  great  event  in  the 
county,  but  Skelton's  presence  and  personal  interest 
in  them,  and  his  large  outlay  upon  his  stable,  gave 
an  increased  zest  to  the  sport.  On  Sundays  the  gen- 
tlemen of  the  county  scarcely  went  in  church  until 
sermon-time  at  all  now,  but  sat  around  on  the  tomb- 
stones and  talked  horse  unflaggingly.  When  it 
rained  they  gathered  in  the  low  porch  of  the  church, 
and  the  murmur  of  their  voices  penetrated  the  great 
doors  and  accompanied  Mr.  Conyers's  voice  during 
the  liturgy.  Mr.  Conyers  had  conscientious  scruples 
about  racing,  as  he  had  about  everything  else,  and, 
seeing  how  much  his  congregation  was  given  over 
to  it,  and  hearing  of  the  large  sums  of  money  that 
would  change  hands  at  the  spring  meeting,  he  took 
it  upon  himself  to  preach  a  sermon  against  the  cult 
of  the  horse.  Skelton,  for  a  wonder,  happened  to 
be  at  church  that  Sunday  with  Lewis.  As  the  cler- 
gyman preached  earnestly  and  plainly,  inveighing 
against  the  state  of  affairs,  people  had  very  little 
trouble  in  fitting  his  remarks  to  certain  individuals. 
He  spoke  of  the  wrong  of  men  of  great  wealth  and 
personal  influence  throwing  both  in  the  scales  of  de- 
moralising sports;  and  every  eye  was  turned  on 
Skelton,  who  bore  it  unflinchingly  and  even  smiling- 

9  ("5) 


I26  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

ly.  His  dark,  well-cut  face,  with  its  high  nose  and 
firm  chin,  was  clearly  outlined  against  the  ridiculous 
purple-silk  curtains  of  his  pew.  But  he  did  not  move 
an  eyelash  under  the  scrutiny  of  the  whole  congre- 
gation. When  Conyers  branched  off,  denouncing  the 
greater  folly  and  wickedness  of  men  who  could  ill 
afford  it  risking  their  all  upon  a  matter  so  full  of 
uncertainties,  chances,  and  cheats  as  racing,  that 
brought  Blair  upright  in  his  pew.  He  folded  his 
arms  and  glared  angrily  at  the  preacher.  No  cool 
composure  was  there,  but  red-hot  wrath,  scarcely  re- 
strained. Then  it  was  old  Tom  Shapleigh's  turn. 
Tom  was  a  vestryman,  and  that  was  the  handle  that 
Conyers  had  against  him  when  he  spoke  of  the  evil 
example  of  older  men  who  should  be  the  pillars  of 
decorum,  and  who  were  connected  with  the  church, 
giving  themselves  over  to  these  pernicious  amuse- 
ments. Old  Tom  was  the  most  enthusiastic  turfite 
going,  and,  having  become  one  of  the  managers  of 
the  Campdown  course,  had  not  been  to  a  single 
meeting  of  the  vestry  since  that  event.  But  he  could 
not  have  been  kept  away  from  the  managers'  meet- 
ing except  by  tying  him.  Mr.  Shapleigh  was  in  a 
rage  within  half  a  minute,  bustling  about  in  his  pew, 
and  slapping  his  prayer-book  together  angrily.  But 
nothing  could  exceed  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  air  of  pro- 
found satisfaction.  "  I  told  you  so  !  "  was  written  all 
over  her  face.  Sylvia,  like  Skelton,  managed  to  main- 
tain her  composure.  When  the  congregation  was 
dismissed  and  the  clergyman  came  out  among  the 
gossiping  people  in  the  churchyard,  he  was  avoided 
more  resolutely  than  ever,  except  by  a  few  persons. 
Skelton  walked  up  promptly,  and  said : 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


127 


"  Good  morning,  Conyers.  You  scalped  me  this 
morning,  but  I  know  it  comes  from  your  being  so 
unnecessarily  honest.  As  I've  doubled  my  subscrip- 
tion to  the  club,  I  think  it's  only  fair  to  double  it  to 
the  church,  so  you  may  call  on  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Conyers  with  real  feeling, 
more  touched  by  Skelton's  magnanimity  than  by  his 
money ;  "  I  see  you  appreciate  that  what  I  said  was 
from  a  motive  of  conscience." 

"  Of  course.  It  won't  damp  my  enthusiasm  for 
the  races,  but  it  certainly  shall  not  turn  me  from  a 
man  as  upright  as  yourself.  Good  morning." 

Next  came  old  Tom  Shapleigh,  fuming : 

"Well,  hello,  Conyers.  You  made  a  devil  of  a 
mess  of  it  this  morning." 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,  you  shouldn't  speak  of  the 
devil  before  Mr.  Conyers,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh. 

"  I  m  sure  he  speaks  of  the  devil  often  enough 
before  me,  and  of  hell,  too,  Mrs.  Shapleigh  !  "  roared 
Mr.  Shapleigh.  "  Now,  Conyers,  I  tell  you  what : 
if  I  can't  be  a  vestryman  and  on  the  board  of  man- 
agers too,  why,  begad !  I'll  resign  from  the  vestry. 
—See  if  I  don't,  Mrs.  Shapleigh  !  " 

"And  the  bishop  coming  too!"  groaned  Mrs. 
Shapleigh — for  the  long-expected  visitation  had  not 
yet  been  made,  but  was  expected  shortly. 

"And  if  a  man  will  go  to  the  dogs,"  shouted  old 
Tom,  growing  more  angry  every  moment,  "  why, 
horse  racing  is  a  deuced  gentlemanly  road  to 
ruin." 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to  think  as  you  please,  Mr. 
Shapleigh,"  said  poor  Conyers,  his  sallow  face 


,2g  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

flushing.  "  I  have  done  my  duty,  and  I  fear  no 
man." 

Sylvia  Shapleigh  at  that  moment  put  her  hand  in 
his  and  gave  him  one  of  the  kindest  looks  in  the 
world  out  of  her  soft,  expressive,  grey  eyes. 

"  You  always  do  your  duty,  and  you  never  fear 
any  man,"  she  said,  and  Conyers  felt  as  if  he  had 
heard  a  consoling  angel. 

The  Blairs  came  along  on  the  heels  of  the  Shap- 
leighs.  Mrs.  Blair,  although  usually  she  bitterly  re- 
sented any  reflection  cast  on  Blair,  was  yet  secretly 
pleased  at  the  clergyman's  wigging,  in  the  vain  hope 
that  it  might  do  some  good ;  so  she,  too,  spoke  to 
Conyers  cordially  and  kindly.  Blair  passed  him 
with  a  curt  nod.  The  Blairs  proceeded  to  their  rick- 
ety carriage — which,  however,  was  drawn  by  a  pair 
of  first-class  nags,  for  Blair  could  always  afford  a 
good  horse — and  went  home.  For  all  their  billing 
and  cooing  they  occasionally  differed,  and  on  this 
occasion  they  did  not  bill  and  coo  at  all. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh  not  only  did  not  bill  and 
coo  on  their  way  home,  but  had  a  very  spirited  mat- 
rimonial skirmish. 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  said  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  as  soon  as 
she  was  settled  in  the  coach,  "  I  know  what  I  shall 
do,  after  your  threat  to  resign  from  the  vestry.  I 
shall  have  Mr.  Conyers  pray  for  you  in  church !  " 

Now,  this  was  the  one  threat  which  never  failed  to 
infuriate  old  Tom,  because  he  knew  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
was  fully  capable  of  asking  it,  and  Conyers  was  fully 
capable  of  doing  it.  So  his  reply  was  a  shout  of 
wrath : 

"  The   hell   you   will !     Very  well,  madam,  very 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


I29 


well.  The  day  that  Conyers  has  the  effrontery  to 
pray  for  me,  that  day  my  subscription  to  his  salary 
stops.  I'll  not  be  prayed  for,  madam — I'll  be  damned 
if  I  will !  And  I  am  a  very  good  Churchman,  but  if  I 
am  prayed  for  in  Abingdon  church,  I'll  turn  Baptist, 
and  be  baptized  in  Hunting  Creek  just  as  soon  as  we 
have  a  freeze,  so  I  can  risk  my  life  and  say  my  wife 
drove  me  to  it.  And  I'll  die  impenitent — see  if  I 
don't,  Mrs.  Shapleigh.  No,  I'll  do  worse:  I'll  join 
the  Methodists  and  pray  for  you,  madam,  in  prayer 
meeting — damn  me,  that's  what  I'll  do!  " 

This  last  terrible  threat  prevailed  ;  for  once,  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  was  beaten,  and  she  knew  it. 

Blair  had  continued  to  feel  an  almost  wild  solici- 
tude about  Alabaster,  and  to  regard  him  more  and 
more  as  a  horse  of  destiny.  Nothing  could  shake 
this  belief,  not  even  when  Alabaster  suddenly  devel- 
oped in  training  the  most  diabolical  temper  that 
could  be  imagined.  This,  Blair  professed  to  believe, 
was  another  guarantee  of  Alabaster's  speed  and  en- 
durance ;  he  declared  he  had  never  known  one  of 
those  devilish  horses  that  was  not  invincible  on  the 
race  track.  But  here  a  serious  difficulty  occurred. 
The  horse,  being  so  watched  and  tended  by  Blair 
and  Hilary,  took  the  most  vicious  dislike  towards  the 
negro  stablemen  generally,  and  especially  the  boy 
that  was  to  ride  him — for  most  of  the  jockeys  in  that 
part  of  the  world  were  negro  boys.  Hilary  was  the 
only  person  that  could  ride  him,  and  even  then  he 
would  sometimes  kick  and  bite  and  plunge  furiously  ; 
but  there  was  no  getting  Hilary  off  a  horse's  back, 
as  Alabaster  found  out.  In  those  days  in  Virginia 
the  boys  rode  almost  before  they  walked,  and  amused 


130 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


their  adolescence  by  riding  unbroken  colts  bare- 
backed. 

They  rode  like  Comanche  Indians  or  Don  Cos- 
sacks. Occasionally  an  accident  happened,  but  it 
was  regarded  in  the  light  of  falling  downstairs,  or 
slipping  upon  the  ice,  or  any  other  unlooked-for  dis- 
pensation. 

Although  Skelton  and  Blair  hated  each  other  and 
made  no  disguise  about  it,  yet  it  was  not  the  fashion 
for  gentlemen  to  quarrel,  and  so  they  kept  on  terms 
scrupulously.  Blair  had  called  upon  Skelton  a  sec- 
ond time,  and  Skelton  was  waiting  until  after  the 
spring  race  meeting  was  over  and  Jaybird  had  dis- 
tanced Alabaster  before  returning  the  visit.  On  the 
occasional  Sundays  when  they  met  at  church,  both 
men  talked  together  civilly  enough  in  a  group.  Skel- 
ton had  heard  of  Alabaster's  sudden  demoralisation, 
and  Blair  knew  it ;  but  Blair  had  a  trump  left  to  play 
before  the  final  game.  One  Sunday,  soon  after  this, 
Mrs.  Blair  having  wheedled  Blair  into  going  to  church, 
and  Skelton  happening  along,  a  number  of  gentle- 
men were  standing  about  the  churchyard,  and  some 
talk  about  the  coming  match  between  Jaybird  and 
Alabaster  was  indulged  in.  The  deepest  interest 
was  felt  in  this  match,  and  nearly  every  man  in  the 
county  had  something  on  it.  Blair  had  so  much  on 
it,  that  sometimes  the  thought  of  it  drove  the  ruddy 
colour  out  of  his  face  when  he  was  alone  and  in  a 
reflective  mood.  And  then  came  in  that  sudden 
change  in  the  horse's  temper,  and  Blair  made  up  his 
mind  that  Hilary  should  ride  the  horse.  The  boy 
was,  of  course,  much  more  intelligent  than  the  negro 
jockey,  and  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  best  riders  in  a 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  131 

county  where  everybody  rode  well.  Mrs.  Blair  made 
no  objection — she  saw  too  plainly  the  necessity  for 
not  throwing  away  a  single  chance — but  she  was  un- 
happy at  the  idea  that  her  fresh-faced  stripling  should 
be  drawn  into  the  vortex. 

Blair  mentioned  this,  talking  with  Skelton  and 
half  a  dozen  men  listening. 

"  Alabaster  has  got  a  devil  of  a  temper,"  he  said 
frankly,  "  but  my  boy  Hilary  can  manage  him — that 
is,  as  far  as  anybody  can.  I  think  Hilary  could  keep 
him  in  a  straight  course.  Of  course,  I  don't  say  he 
can  hold  the  horse — the  chap's  not  yet  fifteen — but 
nobody  can,  for  that  matter.  Alabaster  has  a  mouth 
of  iron,  and  he  knows  what  other  horses  don't  know 
— that  nobody  can  really  hold  a  horse  who  hasn't  got 
a  mind  to  be  held.  But  with  Hilary  it  is  simply  a 
question  of  sticking  on  him  and  heading  him  right, 
and  the  youngster  can  do  that." 

"Do  you  apprehend  any  danger?"  asked  Skel- 
ton. 

Blair  laughed  pleasantly,  showing  his  white  teeth. 

"Well,  I'd  apprehend  some  danger  for  myself.  I 
weigh  a  hundred  and  two-and-sixty,  and  if  the  crea- 
ture landed  me  unexpectedly  in  the  road  it  would  be 
a  pretty  heavy  fall ;  but  as  for  the  boy,  why,  Alabas- 
ter could  no  more  get  rid  of  him  than  he  could  throw 
a  grasshopper.  I  would  be  perfectly  willing  to  back 
Alabaster  with  Hilary  up  against  Jaybird  with  your 
young  friend  Lewis  Pryor — that  is,  if  you  do  not  ap- 
prehend any  danger." 

"  Done !  "  said  Skelton  calmly.  He  had  been  caught 
in  a  trap,  and  he  knew  it ;  but  as  Blair  had  never  hesi- 
tated to  accept  a  challenge  from  him,  so  he  would 


132 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 


not  under  any  circumstances  refuse  a  challenge  from 
Blair.  Of  course,  he  at  once  saw  the  drift  of  Blair's 
remark — it  was  malicious,  to  bring  Lewis  forward, 
and,  besides,  it  was  extremely  unlikely  that  he  should 
be  so  good  a  rider  as  Hilary  Blair.  Nevertheless 
Skelton  said : 

"  Lewis  Pryor  has  not  ridden  barebacked  ever 
since  he  was  born,  like  your  boy,  but  he  has  been 
well  taught  in  the  riding  schools,  and  he  is  naturally 
as  fine  a  rider  as  I  ever  saw.  Jaybird  isn't  vicious ; 
it  is  more  intelligence  than  anything  else  in  riding 
him.  I  think  I  can  trust  Lewis  farther  than  the 
negro  boys  that  do  duty  here  for  jockeys.  They 
can  ride  very  much  as  you  say  your  boy  can,  but  as 
for  any  intelligent  management  of  a  race,  why  they 
are  simply  incapable  of  it." 

Blair  did  not  like  the  comparison  between  Hilary 
and  the  negro  jockeys,  but  he,  too,  said : 

"  Done  !  "     And  Skelton  added  : 

"  Come  to  my  house  to-morrow,  and  we'll  arrange 
it." 

"  No,"  answered  Blair  stoutly.  "  Come  to  my 
house." 

**  Certainly,  if  you  wish,"  replied  Skelton  cour- 
teously. 

As  Blair  drove  home  with  his  wife  through  the 
odorous  woods,  already  awaking  to  the  touch  of 
spring  although  it  was  only  February,  exultation 
possessed  him.  As  for  Jaybird,  he  had  long  been  of 
the  opinion  that  he  was  a  leggy,  overbred  beast,  all 
looks  and  no  bottom;  and  then  to  be  ridden  by  that 
black-eyed  Pryor  boy,  that  had  learned  to  ride  in  a 
riding-school — why  it  would  simply  be  beer  and 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 


133 


skittles  for  Hilary  and  Alabaster.  Even  if  Jaybird 
could  win  the  race,  Lewis  Pryor  couldn't.  Mrs.  Blair 
did  not  wholly  share  these  glorious  expectations,  and 
hated  the  idea  of  Hilary  having  anything  to  do 
with  it. 

Skelton's  silent  anger  grew  more  and  more,  as  he 
thought  over  the  pit  into  which  Blair  had  dropped 
him.  He  cared  nothing  for  the  money  involved, 
but  he  cared  tremendously  for  the  issue  between 
Blair  and  himself.  And  then,  to  put  Lewis  up  against 
Hilary  !  Skelton  would  cheerfully  at  any  moment 
have  given  half  his  fortune  rather  than  Hilary 
should  have  any  triumph  over  Lewis.  Then,  like 
Mrs.  Blair,  he  did  not  think  a  precocious  acquaint- 
ance with  the  race  course  a  good  thing  for  a  boy, 
and  so  he  counted  this  stroke  of  Blair's  as  an- 
other grudge  owed  to  him  and  assuredly  to  be 
paid  off. 

Bulstrode  became  every  day  more  disgusted. 
Work  on  the  great  book  had  come  to  a  standstill. 
Skelton  still  got  piles  of  books  every  month  from 
Europe,  and  stacks  of  letters  from  literary  and  sci- 
entific men,  but  his  heart  and  soul  apparently  were 
in  the  Campdown  course.  The  whole  neighbourhood 
was  arrayed  in  hostile  camps  on  the  question.  Some 
of  the  women,  like  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  openly,  and 
Elizabeth  Blair,  secretly,  opposed  it ;  but  among  the 
men,  only  Mr.  Conyers  and  Bulstrode  were  not  en- 
thusiastically in  favour  of  it.  Skelton  persistently 
described  Blair's  horses  as  "  the  Newington  stable," 
although  Blair  himself  continued  to  allude  to  them 
deprecatingly  as  his  "  horse  or  two."  And  Skelton 
was  always  making  inquiries  into  the  pedigree  of 


134 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


Blair's  horses,  which  rather  staggered  Blair,  who 
knew  that  they  were  not  above  reproach,  and  that  an 
occasional  strain  of  good  blood  did  not  entitle  him 
to  call  them  thoroughbreds.  Nevertheless,  this  could 
not  cure  him  of  his  delusion  that  his  "  horse  or  two  " 
would  one  day  beat  Skelton's  very  best  blood  and 
brawn. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

IN  the  course  of  time  the  bishop  arrived  upon  his 
yearly  visitation.  He  was  a  large,  handsome  man, 
with  an  apostolic  manner.  He  never  condemned; 
he  only  remonstrated,  and  was  in  himself  a  harmless 
and  well-meaning  person.  But  he  found  a  most  un- 
satisfactory state  of  affairs  in  Abingdon  parish. 
The  breach  between  the  pastor  and  the  flock  was  so 
wide  that,  had  they  not  been  the  slowest  and  least 
aggressive  people  in  the  world,  they  would  have  long 
since  parted  company. 

The  bishop  spent  one  night  at  the  rectory,  and 
thereafter  accepted  very  thankfully  the  lavish  hos- 
pitality of  the  laity.  The  rain  leaked  into  the  bish- 
op's room  at  the  rectory,  and  its  steady  drip,  drip, 
drip  kept  him  awake.  The  bed  upon  which  his  epis- 
copal form  reposed  was  very  hard,  and  next  morning, 
when  he  peered  out  of  his  curtainless  window,  he 
saw  Mr.  Conyers  chopping  up  wood  for  the  black 
cook.  That  was  enough  for  the  bishop.  The  next 
day  he  went  to  Belfield,  preferring  Mrs.  Shapleigh's 
company  to  the  discomforts  of  Conyers's  meagre 
home. 

Of  course,  bishop  and  pastor  had  talked  about 
the  Campdown  race  course,  and  Mr.  Conyers  had  been 

(135) 


136 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


gently  chided  for  excessive  zeal.  Mr.  Conyers  there- 
upon said  his  conscience  would  not  let  him  remain 
silent  when  he  saw  the  evil  the  matter  was  doing. 
He  knew  at  least  a  dozen  members  of  his  congre- 
gation who  had  become  bankrupt  through  frequent- 
ing the  course,  and  he  knew  another  one — he  meant 
Blair,  but  did  not  speak  the  name — who  was  on  the 
highway  to  ruin.  He  had  been  grieved  to  see  Mr. 
Skelton's  immense  fortune  and  great  personal  in- 
fluence thrown  in  the  scale  in  favour  of  racing,  and  it 
was  from  the  sincerest  sense  of  duty  that  he  had 
preached  in  season  and  out  of  season  against  what 
had  become  a  public  shame  and  scandal. 

The  bishop,  in  a  sonorous  voice  but  with  weak 
reason,  argued  that  horse  racing,  although  to  be  de- 
plored, was  not  necessarily  wrong.  Mr.  Conyers 
respectfully  submitted  that  it  had  proved  very  wrong 
in  his  personal  experience,  and  that  he  was  striving 
to  prevail  against  what  was  obviously  and  palpably 
an  evil  to  the  community,  and  he  could  not  think  it 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  obvious  evil  to  the 
men  of  the  county  was  balanced  by  the  possible  good 
to  the  horse.  The  bishop  "  hemmed  "  and  "  ha'd  "  and 
beat  about  the  bush.  Then  Conyers  was  induced, 
by  some  foolish  impulse,  to  impart  to  the  bishop 
the  doubts  he  had  laboured  under.  The  bishop,  who 
accepted  all  he  was  taught  without  investigation, 
strongly  recommended  Mr.  Conyers  to  do  the  same. 
Mr.  Conyers's  mind  was  unfortunately  so  constituted 
that  he  couldn't  do  it.  On  the  whole,  the  bishop 
never  had  a  more  uncomfortable  visit  in  his  life,  and 
was  sincerely  glad  when  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  carriage 
hove  in  sight. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


137 


Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  not  insensible  to  the  honour 
of  entertaining  a  bishop,  and  even  confided  to  Mr. 
Shapleigh  a  wish  that  the  bishop,  who  was  a  widower 
of  two  years'  standing,  might  take  a  fancy  to  Sylvia, 
who  was  only  thirty  years  his  junior. 

The  bishop  preached  the  following  Sunday  at 
church,  and  Bulstrode  went  to  hear  him,  and  took 
so  much  snuff  during  the  sermon  that  the  bishop 
sneezed  seventeen  times  without  any  intermission. 
The  bishop,  however,  had  heard  of  Bulstrode's  great 
learning,  and  of  Skelton  and  all  the  glories  of  Deer- 
chase,  and  he  gently  insinuated  to  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
that  he  would  like  to  meet  them.  So  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
at  once  sent  a  darky  tearing  across  the  bridge  with 
an  invitation  for  the  next  day.  The  bishop  spent  his 
time  at  Belfield,  when  he  was  neither  eating  nor  sleep- 
ing, sitting  in  a  capacious  chair  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  listening  very  gravely  to  Mrs.  Shapleigh 's  prattle. 

Sylvia  spent  most  of  her  time  out  in  the  boat  with 
Lewis,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  bishop,  who  bored 
her  to  death.  Lewis  told  this  to  Bulstrode,  who  re- 
peated it  to  Skelton.  Skelton  laughed  quietly.  That 
spirited  young  woman  was  not  likely  to  fancy  a  per- 
son after  the  bishop's  pattern.  Nevertheless,  both 
of  these  prodigies — Skelton  and  Bulstrode — as  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  considered  them,  accepted  her  invitation 
to  dinner,  and  so  did  Conyers,  whose  pleasure  in 
going  to  Belfield  was  that  Sylvia  comforted  and 
understood  him. 

Bulstrode  was  disgusted  because  Conyers  came 
to  dine  at  Belfield  that  day.  He  had  meant  to  wal- 
lop the  bishop,  figuratively  speaking,  but  respect  for 
Conyers  would  restrain  him. 


I38  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

Skelton  was  indifferent.  He  went  because  he 
hoped  to  be  amused,  and  because  the  glory  of  the 
bishop's  visit  would  be  dimmed  if  the  distinguished 
Mr.  Skelton,  of  Deerchase,  failed  to  pay  his  respects ; 
and  then,  he  found  Sylvia  the  most  interesting  woman 
of  his  acquaintance,  and  he  wanted  to  see  how  she 
and  the  bishop  got  on.  He  was  very  much  diverted 
upon  this  last  point.  The  bishop  was  quite  willing 
to  overlook  the  thirty  years'  difference  in  their  ages, 
but  Miss  Sylvia  perversely  and  subtly  brought  it 
forward  at  every  turn. 

Old  Tom,  too,  seemed  bitten  by  a  devil  of  contra- 
diction, and  the  more  Mrs.  Shapleigh  tried  to  give 
the  conversation  at  the  dinner  table  an  evangelical 
turn,  the  more  persistently  old  Tom  talked  about  the 
races,  past  and  future,  the  coming  spring  meeting, 
the  beauties  and  delights  of  racing,  and  his  determi- 
nation, if  he  couldn't  be  a  vestryman  and  a  manager 
too,  to  resign  from  the  vestry.  Sylvia  cast  a  roguish 
glance  at  Skelton  every  now  and  then  from  under  her 
eyelashes,  and  Skelton's  eyes  laughed  back  at  her  sym- 
pathetically. The  bishop  shook  his  head  deprecat- 
ingly  at  Mr.  Shapleigh,  but  said  nothing  in  condemna- 
tion. Out  of  compliment  to  Skelton  and  Bulstrode 
he  tried  very  hard  to  introduce  some  knotty  meta- 
physical talk,  but  luck  was  against  him.  Skelton  de- 
clined to  enter  the  lists  with  such  an  antagonist,  and 
Bulstrode  professed  the  most  hypocritical  ignorance 
upon  every  possible  point  of  view  presented  by  the 
bishop.  "  Don't  know,  I'm  sure  " — "  Never  heard  of 
it  before  " — "  Good  Gad,  ask  Skelton  there ;  he  reads, 
I  don't  " — until  the  bishop  became  so  insistent  that 
Bulstrode  suddenly  turned  and  rent  him.  This  very 


SYLVIA    DID   MUCH    FOR   HERSELF    . 
— Page  139 


BY    THAT    SPEECH. 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 


139 


much  amused  Sylvia,  sitting  quiet  and  demure,  play- 
ing at  eating  her  dinner.  Then  Skelton  launched  into 
talk  of  horses  and  dogs,  all  very  refined,  very  spirited, 
but  to  Conyers,  watching  him  with  sad  eyes,  very 
painful.  How  could  such  a  man  waste  time  on  such 
subjects  ?  Between  horse  racing  and  philosophy, 
poor  Conyers  had  a  dull  time  of  it. 

The  bishop,  however,  although  he  was  lamentably 
deficient  in  the  philosophy  learned  out  of  books,  was 
nevertheless  an  excellent  philosopher  in  action,  and 
ate  a  very  good  dinner  in  much  comfort,  without  dis- 
turbing himself  about  either  the  principles  or  the 
practices  of  his  neighbours.  After  dinner  Skelton 
went  up  to  Sylvia  in  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room, 
and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  How  have  you  stood  him  ? " 

"  Dreadfully  ill,  I  am  afraid,"  answered  Sylvia, 
hopelessly.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  little  Lewis  and 
his  boat,  I  should  have  gone  mad  in  these  last  few 
days." 

Skelton's  eyes  kindled.  "  How  fond  that  boy  is 
of  you ! " 

"  How  can  one  help  being  fond  of  him  ?  He  is 
so  manly,  so  intelligent,  so  affectionate  !  "  Without 
knowing  it  Sylvia  did  much  for  herself  in  Skelton's 
regard  by  that  speech. 

Mrs.  Shapleigh  insisted  that  Sylvia  should  play 
on  the  guitar  for  the  bishop.  Sylvia  began  to  tune 
it,  but  two  strings  snapped  in  succession.  Skelton 
then  offered  to  string  it  for  her,  but  then  the  new 
strings  snapped.  Sylvia  shot  him  a  grateful  glance, 
as  the  guitar  was  laid  away.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  ex- 
pressed to  the  bishop,  and  everybody  else,  her  regret 


140 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


that  the  bishop  couldn't  have  heard  Sylvia  sing. 
When  she  said  so  to  Bulstrode,  he  remarked  in  an 
audible  growl: 

"Drat  the  bishop  !  " 

The  reverend  gentleman  was  luckily  deaf  to  this, 
and  Skelton  immediately  rose  to  go,  with  a  wicked 
smile  at  Sylvia,  who,  in  her  way,  seemed  to  lack  for 
appreciation  of  her  mother's  ecclesiastical  idol  quite 
as  much  as  Bulstrode.  When  Skelton  was  back  at 
Deerchase  that  night  he  thought  Sylvia  one  of  the 
most  winning  girls  he  had  ever  met.  But  then,  he 
could  not  admire  a  charming  girl  as  other  men  could. 
He  was  bound  hand  and  foot.  This  idea  threw  him 
in  one  of  his  silent  rages,  and  he  walked  the  library 
floor  for  a  long  time,  railing  inwardly  at  Fate. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SKELTON  was  naturally  far  from  pleased  at  having 
to  stultify  himself  with  Lewis  by  allowing  him  the 
full  liberty  of  the  stables,  when  he  had  strictly  for- 
bidden it.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it  after  having 
fallen  into  what  he  considered  the  clumsy  trap  set 
for  him  by  Blair.  He  was  at  great  trouble  to  explain 
the  whole  thing  to  Lewis,  when  he  sent  for  the  boy 
in  the  library,  to  talk  it  over,  and  Lewis,  whose  wit 
was  nimble  enough,  understood  in  a  moment.  Boy- 
like,  he  was  delighted.  He  saw  himself,  the  cynosure 
of  all  eyes,  coming  in  a  winner  by  an  impossible  num- 
ber of  lengths,  with  the  men  hurrahing,  the  ladies 
waving  their  handkerchiefs,  and  Sylvia  Shapleigh 
handing  him  a  bouquet  before  all  the  crowd  of 
people.  He  hoped  Mrs.  Blair  would  not  be  there, 
though,  to  see  Hilary's  downfall.  Skelton  explained 
everything  to  him  carefully,  took  him  to  the  stables, 
and  himself  watched  him  every  day  when  he  exer- 
cised Jaybird  around  the  half-mile  track  on  the 
Deerchase  land,  back  of  the  stables. 

Another  reason  why  Skelton  was  not  pleased  at 

the  notion  of  having  Lewis  in  the  race  was  that  he 

was  afraid  the  boy  would  acquire  a  fondness  for  the 

sport,  and  he  talked  to  him  very  seriously  upon  the 

10  (MI) 


142 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


subject,  and  told  him  that  this  first  experience  would 
no  doubt  be  his  last  of  the  kind.  As  it  had  been 
during  the  time  Skelton  was  teaching  him  to  manage 
the  boat,  the  two  were  thrown  together  much,  and 
Lewis  took  the  same  strange  pleasure  in  Skelton's 
company  as  before. 

Bulstrode  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  the  arrange- 
ment, and  became  suddenly  very  strict  and  exacted 
a  great  deal  of  work  from  Lewis  with  his  books. 
Lewis  did  the  work,  putting  his  mind  to  it  very 
steadily,  for  fear  Bulstrode  would  complain  to  Skel- 
ton, and  then  Skelton  might  not  let  him  ride  in  the 
race,  after  all.  Bulstrode  was  opposed  to  the  whole 
thing.  If  Lewis  lost  the  race  he  should  be  sorry, 
because  he  loved  the  boy ;  and  if  Hilary  Blair  lost 
it  —  good  heavens!  What  would  become  of  that 
dear  Mrs.  Blair,  with  her  soft  eyes  and  her  sweet, 
ridiculous  Latin  ? 

Bulstrode  was  talking  about  this  one  day,  in  his 
own  den,  to  Lewis.  This  was  the  only  shabby  spot 
at  Deerchase.  It  was  smoky  and  snuffy  to  the  last 
degree,  and  full  of  that  comfortable  untidiness  which 
marks  a  man  of  books.  However,  here  were  only  a 
few  battered  volumes,  that  contrasted  strangely  with 
Skelton's  magnificent  array  down  in  the  library,  which 
lined  one  vast  room  and  overflowed  into  another. 
This  contrast  always  tickled  Bulstrode  immensely, 
who  had  a  way  of  calling  attention  to  it,  and  then 
tapping  his  head,  saying,  "  Here's  my  library."  And 
there  it  was  indeed. 

Lewis  was  balancing  himself  on  the  wide  window 
seat,  which  was  about  twenty  feet  from  the  ground, 
and,  after  the  manner  of  boys,  trying  to  see  how  far 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  I43 

he  could  lean  out  without  tumbling  over  and  break- 
ing his  neck. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  listening  very  closely  to 
Bulstrode,  whose  attention  was  divided.  He  was, 
all  at  once,  pursuing  the  thread  of  his  own  thoughts, 
saving  Lewis  from  tumbling  out,  and  blowing  smoke 
through  the  open  window.  It  was  one  of  the  pecul- 
iarly bright,  cloudless  March  days  that  come  in  that 
latitude. 

Everything  on  the  plantation  was  full  of  the  ac- 
tivity of  spring.  The  great  wheat  fields  in  the  dis- 
tance showed  a  faint  green  upon  the  surface,  al- 
though only  the  tenderest  points  of  the  wheat  had 
pushed  through  the  rich  black  earth.  The  woods 
were  enveloped  in  a  soft,  green-grey  haze,  and  the 
delicious  smell  of  the  newly  ploughed  ground  was 
in  the  air.  Afar  off  they  could  hear  faintly  the 
voices  of  the  multitudes  of  black  labourers,  singing 
and  laughing  and  chattering,  as  they  drove  the 
ploughs  merrily.  The  thrushes  and  the  blackbirds 
rioted  musically  in  the  trees,  and  a  profligate  robin 
roystered  in  a  branch  of  the  tall  silver  beech  that 
grew  directly  under  the  window.  The  lawn  was 
freshly  and  perfectly  green,  and  the  gravel  walks 
were  being  lazily  rolled  by  Sam  Trotter,  who  was 
Bob  Skinny's  coadjutor.  The  river  was  always  beau- 
tiful, and  the  sun  had  turned  it  to  molten  gold.  The 
great,  dull,  red-brick  house,  with  its  quaint  peaks  and 
gables,  and  the  beautifully  designed  wings  which 
had  been  added  by  Skelton,  showed  charmingly 
against  the  background  of  noble  trees  and  the  hedge 
of  giant  cedars  which  marked  the  pleasure  grounds. 
A  peacock  sunned  himself  proudly  on  the  stone  steps 


144 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


which  led  down  from  the  plateau  on  which  the  house 
stood,  while  on  the  marble  porch,  directly  facing  the 
peacock,  stood  Bob  Skinny,  superb  in  his  blue  coat 
and  brass  buttons  and  enormous  shirt-ruffle,  eying 
the  peacock  while  the  peacock  eyed  him.  Neither 
one  of  them  had  anything  better  to  do,  although 
Bob  occasionally  called  out  a  command  to  Sam  Trot- 
ter about  the  way  he  was  doing  his  work,  which  Sam 
received  in  contemptuous  silence. 

Bulstrode  was  rather  insusceptible  to  the  charm 
of  Nature  and  still  life,  but  even  he  was  deeply  im- 
pressed with  the  beauty  and  plenty  of  the  scene 
around  him.  Lewis  felt  it  in  the  joyous,  exhila- 
rating way  that  young  creatures  feel  pleasure  before 
they  have  learned  to  think.  He  felt  that  it  was  good 
to  live. 

Bulstrode  was  in  his  usual  communicative  mood. 

After  denouncing  horse  racing  as  a  foolish  and 
inconsequent  sport  in  general,  he  began  to  give  his 
views  about  the  Campdown  races  in  particular. 

"  Human  nature  is  a  queer  thing,"  said  he  to 
Lewis — he  called  it  "  natur'."  "  Here  are  these  races 
the  whole  county  is  mad  about.  You  think  it's  a 
comedy,  hey,  boy  ?  Well,  it's  not.  It's  a  tragedy — 
a  tragedy,  d'ye  understand  ?" 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  fight  over  it  all  around," 
said  Lewis,  who  was  alive  to  everything.  "The 
parson's  against  it.  He's  a  good  man — ain't  he,  Mr. 
Bulstrode  ?  " 

"Yes,  by  Heaven  he  is! "  cried  Bulstrode,  taking 
a  huge  pinch  of  snuff.  "And  let  me  tell  you,  I  fear 
that  man,  just  as  I  fear  and  reverence  a  good  woman, 
not  on  account  of  his  brains,  although  they  are 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  ^5 

fairly  good,  but  because  of  his  superlative  honesty. 
As  for  that  lunkhead  of  a  bishop,  I  protest  he  is 
wearisome  to  me.  Mrs.  Blair — Heaven  bless  her  ! — 
beguiled  me  into  going  to  hear  the  creetur'  preach  " 
— Bulstrode  never  could  get  such  words  as  "crea- 
ture "  and  "  nature  "  and  "  figure  "  right — "  and,  upon 
my  soul,  I  never  heard  such  a  farrago  since  God 
made  me.  He  attempts  to  reason,  the  creetur'  does, 
and  talks  about  ecclesiastical  history,  and  he's  got  a 
smattering  of  what  he  calls  theology  and  canon  law. 
Lord  help  the  fools  in  this  world !  For  every  fool 
that  dies  two  are  born." 

Lewis  was  accustomed  to  hearing  bishops  spoken 
of  disrespectfully,  and  therefore  took  no  exception 
to  it. 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh  says,"  he  continued,  after  another 
effort  to  see  how  far  he  could  get  out  of  the  window 
without  falling  and  breaking  his  neck,  "  Mr.  Shap- 
leigh says  the  bishop  thinks  Mr.  Conyers  has  gone 
too  far  in  opposing  the  races." 

Here  Lewis  nearly  succeeded  in  tumbling  out, 
and  Bulstrode  caught  him  by  the  leg  in  the  nick  of 
time. 

"  God  bless  the  boy !  can't  you  keep  quiet  half 
a  minute  ?  Of  course  he  has,  to  please  that  old 
fool,  with  his  defective  quantities  and  his  notion 
that  he  is  the  wisest  man  that  ever  lived.  How- 
ever, when  I  went  to  hear  that  precious  sermon  I 
sat  right  under  the  creetur',  flapping  about  the  pul- 
pit in  his  white  nightgown,  and  I  took  snuff  until  I 
nearly  made  him  sneeze  his  head  off.  The  day  I  was 
asked  to  dinner  with  him  by  that  damned  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh, the  ass  sought  me  out — he'd  heard  something 


j^6  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

of  Mr.  Bulstrode  !  Ha  !  ha  !  He  began  talking  what 
he  thought  was  philosophy,  and  he  doesn't  know  a 
syllogism  from  a  churn-dasher,  so  I  couldn't  but 
trip  him  up.  I  thought  it  wasn't  worth  while  to  try 
him  with  anything  that  wasn't  rudimentary,  so  I  said 
to  him,  '  Do  you  believe  in  the  Aristotelian  system  ? ' 
It  seems  he'd  heard  of  old  Aristotle  somewhere  or 
other,  so  he  says,  smirking  and  mighty  polite:  'Of 
course,  I  admit  the  soundness  of  it,  Mr.  Bulstrode.' 
'And,'  said  I  very  crossly,  '  I  suppose  you  believe  in 
a  revealed  religion,  don't  you  ? '  '  O — w  ! '  says  the 
bishop,  exactly  as  if  I  had  stuck  a  pin  in  him.  '  My 
cloth,  sir,  is  answer  enough  to  that.'  Then  I  re- 
marked: 'You've  got  to  accept  Thomas  Aquinas  too 
— for  if  ever  a  bridge  was  made  between  natural  and 
revealed  religion,  old  Thomas  has  made  it.'  You 
ought  to  have  seen  his  countenance  then.  It  shut 
him  up  for  at  least  five  minutes,  during  which  he 
never  opened  his  mouth  except  to  put  something  in 
it.  Then  he  began  to  tell  me  some  rigmarole  about 
Anglican  theology,  and  I  banged  my  fist  down  on  the 
table,  and  said,  '  Who  consecrated  Parker  ?  Answer 
me  that.'  Bulstrode  shouted  rather  than  said  this, 
his  recollection  of  the  bishop's  discomfiture  was  so 
keen.  "  I  know  Mrs.  Shapleigh  said  I  behaved  like 
an  old  ruffian  to  the  bishop,  but,  dang  me,  the  bish- 
op's an  ass ! " 

"  I  believe  you  think  everybody's  an  ass  except 
the.  good  folks,"  said  Lewis. 

"  I  believe  I  do,"  answered  Bulstrode,  taking  an- 
other gigantic  pinch  of  snuff.  "  But  I  told  you  there 
was  a  tragedy  about  those  Campdown  races,  and  so 
the-  >  is.  Now,  this  is  it.  Skelton  has  made  up  his 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


147 


mind  to  ruin  Blair.  He  needn't  trouble  himself — 
Blair  will  do  the  work  fast  enough  without  any- 
body's help.  But  our  respected  friend  and  bene- 
factor means  to  have  a  hand  in  it.  That's  the 
meaning  of  the  money  he  is  pouring  out  like  water, 
and  that's  why  Blair  is  making  such  a  fight.  But 
that  poor  wife  of  his — Lewis,  Lewis,  if  you  win 
that  match  you'll  stab  that  gentle  creature  to  the 
heart !  " 

Lewis  gazed  at  Bulstrode  with  wide-open  eyes. 
He  was  naturally  tender  and  reverent  to  women,  and 
the  idea  of  inflicting  pain  upon  any  one  of  them  was 
hateful  to  him.  All  at  once  the  pleasure  in  the  race 
seemed  to  vanish.  What  pleasure  could  it  be  when 
he  came  galloping  in  ahead,  if  poor  Mrs.  Blair  were 
ruined  and  wretched  and  broken  -  hearted  ?  He 
stopped  his  acrobatic  performances  and  sat  quite 
still  in  the  window,  looking  sadly  into  Bulstrode's 
face. 

"  Will  it  make  Mrs.  Blair  very  unhappy  if  Jaybird 
wins  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Unhappy  !  It  will  drive  Blair  to  the  wall  abso- 
lutely. He  has  acted  like  a  madman  all  through.  He 
has  borrowed  every  penny  he  could  lay  his  hands  on 
to  put  on  that  black  horse  of  his.  Blair  is  a  study 
to  me.  He  is  the  most  practical  man  in  making 
money  and  the  most  unpractical  man  in  getting  rid 
of  it  I  ever  saw.  Why,  he  makes  more  actual  profit 
out  of  that  place,  Newington,  than  Skelton  does  out 
of  Deerchase.  Old  Tom  Shapleigh  says  he  is  the 
best  farmer,  stock-raiser,  manager  of  negroes  in  the 
State  of  Virginia.  If  he  could  be  driven  from  the 
turf  he  would  be  a  rich  man  in  ten  years.  But  he's 


j^g  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

got  that  racing  vampire  fixed  upon  him.  God  help 
his  wife  and  children  !  " 

This  made  Lewis  very  unhappy.  He  went  about 
haunted  with  the  feeling  that  he  was  Mrs.  Blair's 
enemy.  He  began  to  hate  the  idea  of  the  race  as 
much  as  he  had  once  been  captivated  by  it.  This 
was  not  lost  on  Skelton. 

Before  that,  the  two  boys  had  showed  much  ela- 
tion over  their  coming  prominence  at  the  race  meet- 
ing. When  they  met  they  assumed  great  knowing- 
ness  in  discussing  turf  matters,  which  they  only  half 
understood,  and  put  on  mannish  airs  to  each  other. 
Instead  of  "Lewis"  and  "Hilary,"  as  it  had  once 
been,  it  became  "  Pryor  "  and  "  Blair."  But  afterward 
Hilary  was  surprised  to  find  a  great  want  of  enthu- 
siasm in  Lewis.  He  spoke  of  it  to  his  father,  and 
Blair  at  once  fancied  that  Lewis  had  shown  the 
white  feather.  He  told  it  triumphantly  to  Elizabeth, 
and  adduced  it  as  another  proof  that  he  had  a  "  sure 
thing."  Elizabeth,  though,  was  not  so  confident. 
She  had  seen  too  many  disappointments  come  of 
Blair's  "  sure  things." 

Skelton  had  not  intended  to  return  Blair's  last 
visit  until  after  the  race  meeting,  but  the  conviction 
that  Blair  would  lose  the  race  induced  him  to  go 
over  one  day  in  the  early  spring  to  pay  a  visit, 
thinking  it  would  be  very  painful  to  seek  Blair  out 
in  defeat.  So  he  drove  over  in  his  stylish  curricle. 
Hilary  met  him  at  the  door  of  the  Newington  house, 
and  Skelton  mentally  compared  him  to  Lewis  Pryor, 
much  to  Lewis's  advantage.  Skelton,  though,  scarce- 
ly did  Hilary  justice.  The  boy  had  his  father's 
physique  and  Blair's  wide  mouth  and  white  teeth, 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


149 


and  also  a  great  many  freckles ;  but  he  had  his 
mother's  charming  expression.  He  escorted  Skel- 
ton  within  the  house. 

Blair  at  once  appeared,  and  with  much  apparent 
cordiality  led  the  way  into  the  old-fashioned  draw- 
ing-room, where  Elizabeth  sat  sewing,  with  little 
Mary  at  her  knee.  An  Arab  hospitality  prevailed 
among  these  people,  and  enemies  were  welcomed  at 
each  other's  houses. 

They  talked  together  very  amicably  without  once 
mentioning  the  subject  which  was  uppermost  in  all 
their  minds,  until  suddenly  Hilary,  with  that  mal- 
adroit ingenuity  of  which  boys  seem  peculiarly  pos- 
sessed, asked  suddenly : 

"  Mr.  Skelton,  how's  Lewis  Pryor  coming  on  with 
Jaybird  ?  " 

"  Admirably,"  responded  Skelton  with  the  utmost 
coolness. 

Blair  had  turned  red,  while  Elizabeth  had  grown 
pale.  Only  little  Mary  sat  and  sewed  unconcern- 
edly. 

"  I  think,"  said  Elizabeth,  after  an  awkward 
pause,  and  expressing  the  first  idea  that  came  into 
her  mind,  "  it  is  the  last  race  I  will  ever  consent  to 
let  Hilary  ride.  I  don't  think  it  does  boys  any  good 
to  interest  them  in  such  things." 

Here  was  an  opportunity  for  Skelton  to  hit  back 
for  Blair's  sneer  at  Lewis  Pryor  when  the  match  was 
first  arranged. 

"If  you  have  the  slightest  objection  to  it,"  he 
said  blandly,  "  speak  only  one  word  and  it  is  off.  I 
need  not  say  to  you  that  I  should  regard  the  forfeit 
as  nothing,  and  even  give  up  the  pleasure  of  seeing 


jjo  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

my  horse  matched  against  Mr.  Blair's,  rather  than 
give  you  one  moment's  pain." 

"  Ah,  no,"  cried  Elizabeth — she  had  taken  fire  at 
Skelton's  tone,  and  hastened  to  redeem  herself  from 
the  humiliation  of  trying  to  get  out  of  it. 

Blair  simply  glared  at  her.  He  thought  Elizabeth 
had  lost  her  senses ;  and  before  she  could  utter  an- 
other word,  he  said,  with  a  kind  of  savage  coolness : 
"  Certainly  not.  But  if  you  think  that  your — young 
ward,  is  he  —  ?" 

"  Lewis  Pryor  is  not  my  ward,  he  is  Mr.  Bul- 
strode's,"  responded  Skelton,  without  the  slightest 
change  of  tone.  But  there  was  a  flush  rising  in  his 
dark  face.  Blair  managed  to  convey,  subtly,  a  con- 
tempt of  the  boy,  which  was  to  Skelton  the  most  in- 
furiating thing  under  heaven. 

"Very  well,  then,  whatever  he  is;  if  you  feel 
any  doubts  of  his  ability  to  manage  a  horse — 

"  I  don't  feel  the  slightest  doubt,"  answered  Skel- 
ton, the  flush  mounting  higher  and  showing  dully 
through  his  olive  skin.  "  It  is  a  pity  that  this  young 
gentleman  should  have  started  the  one  subject  that 
we  cannot  discuss.  It  is  difficult  to  teach  a  boy  tact 
— impossible,  almost,  for  when  they  are  tactful  it  is 
born  with  them." 

This,  delivered  in  Skelton's  graceful  manner,  left 
the  impression  upon  the  mind  of  Blair  and  his  wife 
that  Skelton  had  very  artfully  called  their  boy  a  lout. 
However,  he  then  turned  his  attention  to  little  Mary, 
the  childish  image  of  her  mother.  Mary  answered 
his  questions  correctly  and  demurely,  and  presently 
startled  them  by  asking  when  Mr.  Lewis  Pryor  was 
coming  over  to  give  her  a  ride  on  his  pony. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  151 

The  child  had  met  him  riding  about  the  roads 
and  at  church,  and  they  had  struck  up  an  acquaint- 
ance, with  the  result  of  this  promise.  But  as  Lewis 
had  never  been  to  Newington,  and,  in  fact,  had  never 
been  asked,  this  increased  the  prevailing  discomfort. 
Skelton,  though,  with  elaborate  ease,  promised  to 
find  out  from  Lewis  and  let  her  know.  Neither  Mr. 
nor  Mrs.  Blair  took  any  part  in  the  discussion,  and 
they  altogether  ignored  Lewis's  existence.  All  the 
ingenuity  in  the  world  could  not  have  devised  any- 
thing more  galling  to  Skelton. 

Then,  Blair  seemed  not  to  be  able  to  keep  off  the 
question  of  the  races  again,  although  no  mention  was 
made  of  the  especial  match  between  them.  Eliza- 
beth listened  with  an  aching  heart.  What  a  trifle  it 
was  to  Skelton,  while  to  them  it  was  the  most  tre- 
mendous event  in  the  world.  It  might  mean  the  turn- 
ing of  herself  and  Blair  and  her  children  out  of  house 
and  home.  But  she  gave  no  sign  of  this  inward 
fear,  speaking  lightly,  although  she  had  a  horrible 
feeling  that  Skelton  knew  how  hollow  their  pretence 
was — that  the  money  Blair  had  risked  might  have  to 
be  got  by  some  occult  means,  for  not  another  penny 
could  be  raised  upon  Newington.  Presently  Skelton 
rose  and  said  good-by,  Blair  seeing  him  to  the  door 
and  watching  him  as  he  stepped  lightly  into  his  cur- 
ricle. Then  Blair  came  back  like  a  criminal  to  his 
wife. 

But  Elizabeth  had  no  reproaches  to  make.  She 
was  fluent  enough  when  her  feelings  were  not  deeply 
touched,  but  under  the  influence  of  profound  emotion 
she  became  perfectly  silent.  She  was  inapt  at  re- 
proaches too ;  but  Blair  would  cheerfully  have  pre- 


152 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


ferred  even  the  extraordinary  wiggings  that  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  gave  her  husband  to  the  still  and  heart- 
breaking reproof  of  Elizabeth's  despairing,  wordless 
look.  He  walked  about  the  room  for  a  few  moments, 
while  Elizabeth,  with  her  work  dropping  from  her 
listless  hand,  sat  in  fixed  sadness. 

"  By  Jupiter,  the  horse  must  win  !  "  he  cried  ex- 
citedly, after  a  moment.  "  For  God's  sake,  Eliza- 
beth, don't  look  at  me  in  that  way !  " 

Elizabeth  made  a  desperate  effort  to  rally. 

"  How  can  I  accuse  you,"  she  said,  "  when  I,  too, 
am  a  coward  before  Richard  Skelton  ?  I  ought  to 
say  :  '  We  are  desperately  poor  and  in  debt — we  can't 
afford  to  risk  anything,  no  matter  how  promising  the 
chances  are,  because  we  have  nothing  to  risk.  We 
are  living  now  upon  our  creditors.'  Instead  of  that, 
I  sit  by  and  smile  and  say  I  have  no  fear,  and  pro- 
fess to  be  willing.  I  am  the  greatest  coward  in  the 
world.  One  word,  just  now,  and  the  whole  thing 
would  have  been  off — but  I  did  not  say  it.  No,  I  am 
as  much  to  blame  in  this  as  you  are." 

Skelton,  driving  home,  concluded  he  would  stop 
at  Belfield.  He  was  inwardly  raging,  as  he  always 
was  at  any  slight  upon  Lewis  Pryor.  There  was  he, 
Mr.  Skelton,  of  Deerchase,  supposed  to  be  the  richest 
and  most  powerful  man  in  the  county,  and  yet  he 
could  not  get  a  single  family  to  recognise  that  boy — 
except  at  Belfield.  Just  as  he  was  turning  this  over 
bitterly  in  his  mind,  he  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the 
Belfield  house.  It  was  yet  in  the  bright  forenoon. 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh  were  at  home. 
Skelton  only  stayed  a  few  minutes,  when,  glancing 
out  of  the  window,  he  saw  Sylvia  and  Lewis  Pryor 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


153 


sitting  together  in  the  little  summerhouse  on  the 
bridge  across  the  creek  that  separated  the  two  plan- 
tations. Skelton  rose. 

"  I  see  Miss  Shapleigh  on  the  bridge,  and  if  you 
will  excuse  me  I  will  say  good-day  to  you  and  join 
her." 

Old  Tom  was  excessively  surprised. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  you  are  paying  us  a  monstrous 
short  visit !  I  thought  you  had  come  especially  to 
see  me.' 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Skelton,  "  I  called  to  pay  my 
respects  to  the  ladies,"  and,  with  a  bow,  he  walked 
out,  and  they  saw  him  cross  the  lawn  and  follow  the 
bridge  to  the  summerhouse. 

"  There,  now,  Mr.  Shapleigh !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  triumphantly,  "wasn't  I  a  long-headed 
woman,  to  have  that  summerhouse  built  eighteen 
years  ago  for  Richard  Skelton  and  Sylvia  to  make 
love  in  ? " 

"  It's  the  first  time  they've  ever  been  in  it  since  it 
was  built,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  everything  has  to  have  a  beginning,  Mr. 
Shapleigh,  though,  of  course,  I  know  he  never  can 
marry  my  poor,  beautiful  girl." 

"  Yes,  he  can,  Mrs.  Shapleigh.  If  he  chooses  to 
pay  several  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  her,  he  can." 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,  you  talk  very  foolishly.  What 
man  alive,  do  you  think,  would  pay  that  much  to 
marry  any  woman  ?  Though  I  will  say,  if  any  woman 
is  worth  it,  Sylvia  is  the  one,  and  she's  not  half  as 
good-looking  as  I  was  at  her  age,  either." 

"  True,  madam.  But  if  one  had  half  a  million 
dollars  to  buy  a  wife  with,  he  might  have  a  good,  long 


154 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


hunt  before  he  found  a  woman  like  you,  my  own 
love." 

"Now,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  are  you  joking?" 
"  I  can't  hear  you,  my   sweet,"   responded   Mr. 
Shapleigh   cheerfully.     "  Every   day  I  seem  to  get 
deafer  and  deafer,  particularly  to  your  voice." 

"I  notice  you  can  hear  some  things  well  enough. 
When  I  say,  '  Mr.  Shapleigh,  we've  got  wild  ducks 
for  dinner  to-day,'  you  can  hear  as  well  as  I  can. 
And  when  I  say,  '  Mr.  Shapleigh,  the  moths  have 
made  ravages  in  the  carpets,'  you  always  think  I'm 
talking  about  cabbages  in  the  garden,  or  something 
a  thousand  miles  off.  You  ought  to  be  treated  for 
your  deafness  and  have  it  cured." 

"  Don't  want  to  have  it  cured,  ma'am." 
Meanwhile,  Skelton  had  joined  Sylvia  and  Lewis 
in  the  summerhouse,  which  had  been  built  expressly 
to  harbour  those  two  first  named,  but  which,  as  Mr. 
Shapleigh  truly  said,  had  never  held  them  together 
in  their  lives. 

Lewis  was  rather  pleased  at  Skelton's  arrival. 
He  fancied  a  kind  of  rivalry  between  Skelton  and 
himself  with  Sylvia,  and  was  immensely  delighted  at 
the  notion  of  letting  Skelton  see  how  well  he  stood 
in  Sylvia's  good  graces.  Sylvia,  too,  was  not  insen- 
sible to  the  honour  of  Skelton's  company,  and  some- 
times wondered  if — if — her  surmises  here  became 
totally  confused  ;  but  Skelton  was  undoubtedly  the 
most  charming  man  she  had  ever  known,  and  a 
woman  of  Sylvia's  intelligence  was  peculiarly  sen- 
sitive to  his  charm.  On  Skelton's  part,  he  felt  pro- 
foundly grateful  towards  anybody  who  was  kind  to 
Lewis  Pryor,  and  nothing  could  have  brought  Syl- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


155 


via's  attractions  more  seductively  before  him  than 
her  kindness  to  the  boy. 

Sylvia  and  Skelton  grew  so  very  friendly  that 
Lewis,  feeling  himself  slighted,  stiffly  said  good-morn- 
ing, and  went  back  to  Deerchase,  when  he  got  in  his 
boat  and  sailed  straight  down  the  river,  past  Lone 
Point,  and  did  not  get  back  until  the  afternoon. 

Left  alone  together,  the  man  and  the  woman  sud- 
denly felt  a  sensation  of  intimacy.  It  was  as  if  they 
had  taken  up  again  that  thread  which  had  been 
broken  off  so  many  years  ago.  Skelton  pointed  to 
the  spot  on  the  shore  where  she  had  said  good-bye 
to  him  on  that  gusty  September  evening. 

"There  was  where  you  kissed  me,"  he  said.  At 
this  Sylvia  coloured  deeply  and  beautifully  and  took 
refuge  in  levity,  but  the  colour  did  not  die  out  of 
her  face,  and  Skelton  noticed  that  her  eyelids  flut- 
tered. She  was  such  a  very  innocent  creature,  that,  in 
spite  of  her  cleverness,  he  could  read  her  like  a  book. 

Something  impelled  him  to  speak  to  her  of  Eliza- 
beth Blair.  "  Good  God  !  "  he  said,  "  that  any  human 
being  should  have  the  power  to  inflict  the  suffering 
on  another  that  that  woman  inflicted  on  me  nearly 
twenty  years  ago  !  And  every  time  Conyers  preaches 
about  blessings  in  disguise  I  always  think  of  that 
prime  folly  of  my  youth.  Elizabeth  Blair  is  good 
and  lovely,  but  how  wretched  we  should  have  been 
together.  So  I  forgive  her ! "  He  did  not  say  he 
forgave  Blair. 

Sylvia  looked  at  him  gravely  and  sympathetically. 
Skelton  was  smiling ;  he  treated  his  past  agonies 
with  much  contempt.  But  women  never  feel  con- 
tempt for  the  sufferings  of  the  heart,  and  listen  with 


I56 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


delight  to  that  story  of  love,  which  is  to  them  ever 
new  and  ever  enchanting. 

"  How  charming  it  must  be  to  have  had  a  great 
romance,"  said  Sylvia,  half  laughing  and  yet  wholly 
earnest — "  one  of  those  tremendous  passions,  you 
know,  that  teaches  one  all  one  can  know !  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  never  have  one,  unless  dear  little  Lewis 
comes  to  the  rescue." 

"  You  will  know  it  one  day,  and  that  without 
Lewis,"  answered  Skelton.  "Some  women  are 
formed  for  grand  passions,  just  as  men  come  into 
the  world  with  aptitude  for  great  affairs." 

"But  how  can  I  know  it — here?"  asked  Sylvia 
impatiently.  "  See  how  circumscribed  our  lives  are  ! 
I  never  knew  it  until  lately,  and  then  it  came  home 
to  me,  as  it  does  every  day,  that  the  great,  wide, 
beautiful,  exciting  world  is  not  as  far  removed  as 
another  planet,  which  I  used  to  fancy.  But  when  I 
want  to  see  the  world,  papa  and  mamma  tell  me  they 
will  take  me  to  the  Springs !  That's  not  the  world. 
It  is  only  a  little  piece  of  this  county  picked  up  and 
put  down  in  another  county." 

Skelton  was  sitting  on  the  bench  by  her.  He 
watched  her  lovely,  dissatisfied  eyes  as  they  glanced 
impatiently  and  contemptuously  on  the  still  and 
beautiful  scene.  Yes,  it  would  be  something  to  teach 
this  woman  how  much  there  was  beyond  the  mere 
beauty  and  plenty  and  ease  of  a  country  life  in  a  re- 
mote provincial  place.  Sylvia  caught  his  eyes  fixed 
on  her  so  searchingly  that  she  coloured  again — the 
blood  that  morning  was  perpetually  playing  hide  and 
seek  in  her  cheeks. 

Skelton  went  on  in  a  strain  rather  calculated  to 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  157 

foster  than  to  soothe  her  impatience.  He  saw  at 
once  that  he  could  produce  almost  any  effect  he 
wanted  upon  her,  and  that  is  a  power  with  which 
men  and  women  are  seldom  forbearing.  Certainly 
Skelton  was  not.  He  loved  power  better  than  any- 
thing on  earth,  and  the  conquest  of  a  woman  worth 
conquering  gave  him  infinite  pleasure. 

He  felt  this  intoxication  of  power  as  he  watched 
Sylvia.  Although  he  was  not  a  vain  man,  he  could 
almost  have  fixed  the  instant  when  she,  who  had 
been  long  trembling  on  the  brink  of  falling  in  love 
with  him,  suddenly  lost  her  balance.  They  had  sat 
in  the  summerhouse  a  long  time,  although  it  seemed 
short  to  them.  Their  voices  unconsciously  dropped 
to  a  low  key,  and  there  were  eloquent  stretches  of 
silence  between  them.  The  noon  was  gone,  and  they 
heard  the  faint  sound  of  the  bugle  calling  the  hands 
to  work  in  the  fields  after  the  midday  rest.  Sylvia 
started,  and  rose  as  if  to  go.  Skelton,  without  mov- 
ing, looked  at  her  with  a  strange  expression  of  com- 
mand in  his  eyes.  He  touched  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
lightly,  and  that  touch  brought  her  back  instantly 
to  his  side. 

The  secret  contempt  that  a  common-place  man 
feels  for  a  woman  who  falls  in  love  with  him  comes 
from  a  secret  conviction  that  he  is  not  worthy  of 
it,  however  blatant  his  vanity  and  self-love  may  be. 
But  Skelton,  the  proudest  but  the  least  vain  of  men, 
was  instinctively  conscious  that  a  woman  who  fell  in 
love  with  him  was  really  in  love  with  certain  great 
and  commanding  qualities  he  had.  His  self-love 
spoke  the  language  of  common  sense  to  him.  He 
did  not  give  up  the  fight  so  quickly  and  conclusively 


I5g  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

as  the  younger  and  more  impressionable  Sylvia  did. 
Knowing  of  a  great  stumbling  block  in  his  way,  he 
had  guarded  himself  against  vague,  sweet  fancies. 
But  Skelton  was  too  wise  a  man  not  to  know  that 
when  the  master  passion  appeared  and  said  "  Lo, 
I  am  here !  "  he  is  not  to  be  dismissed  like  a  lackey, 
but,  willingly  or  unwillingly,  he  must  be  entertained. 
The  great  passions  are  all  unmannerly.  They  come 
at  inconvenient  seasons  without  asking  leave,  and  the 
master  of  the  house  must  give  place  to  these  mighty 
and  commanding  guests.  Women  meet  them  obse- 
quiously at  the  door ;  men  remain  to  be  sought  by 
these  lordly  visitors,  but  do  not  thereby  escape. 

As  Skelton  felt  more  and  more  the  charm  of  Syl- 
via's sweetness,  the  ineffable  flattery  of  her  passion 
for  him,  a  furious  dissatisfaction  began  to  work  in 
him.  If  only  he  were  placed  like  other  men !  But 
if  he  should  love,  the  only  way  he  could  satisfy  it 
would  be  by  endowing  the  Blairs,  whom  he  hated 
from  his  soul,  with  all  his  dead  wife's  vast  fortune, 
or  else  proclaiming  a  certain  thing  about  Lewis  Pryor 
that  would  indeed  make  him  rich,  but  make  him  also 
to  be  despised.  Neither  of  these  things  could  he 
bear  to  think  of  then.  He  was  not  yet  so  subjugated 
that  pride  and  revenge  could  be  displaced  at  once. 
But  still  he  could  not  drag  himself  away  from  Syl- 
via. It  was  Sylvia,  in  the  end,  who  broke  away  from 
him.  She  glanced  at  a  little  watch  she  wore,  and  a 
flood  of  colour  poured  into  her  face.  She  looked  so 
guilty  that  Skelton  smiled,  but  it  was  rather  a  melan- 
choly smile.  He  thought  that  they  were  like  two 
fair  ships  driven  against  each  other  to  their  destruc- 
tion by  vagabond  winds  and  contrary  tides. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

EVERY  circumstance  connected  with  the  coming 
race  meeting  disgusted  Bulstrode  more  and  more. 
One  night,  sitting  over  the  walnuts  and  the  wine  in 
the  dining-room  at  Deerchase  with  Skelton  and 
Lewis,  Bulstrode  gave  vent  to  his  dissatisfaction. 
He  did  not  always  dine  with  Skelton,  and,  indeed, 
when  Bob  Skinny's  emissary  came  to  his  door  to  say 
that  dinner  was  served,  Bulstrode  would  generally 
answer:  "Oh,  hang  dinner!  I  had  a  chop  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  and  I'll  be  shot  if  I'll  sit  for  two 
hours  with  Skelton  over  a  lot  of  French  kickshaws, 
with  him  looking  superciliously  at  me  every  time  I 
touch  the  decanter."  Bob  Skinny  would  translate 
this  message  as  follows :  "  Mr.  Bulstrode,  he  present 
he  compliments,  sah,  an'  he  say,  ef  you  will  have  de 
circumlocution  to  excuse  him,  he  done  had  he  din- 
ner." 

Lewis,  though,  always  dined  with  Skelton  and 
enjoyed  it.  Skelton  was  at  his  best  at  dinner,  and 
would  sometimes  exert  himself  to  please  the  boy, 
whose  tastes  were  singularly  like  his  own.  Lewis 
liked  the  exquisitely  appointed  table,  the  sight  of  the 
flowers  upon  it,  the  subtile  air  of  luxury  pervading 
the  whole.  He  liked  to  lie  back  in  his  chair,  making 

(159) 


!6o  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

his  one  small  glass  of  sherry  last  as  long  as  he  could, 
looking  out  upon  the  black  clumps  of  the  shrubbery 
that  loomed  large  in  the  purple  twilight,  listening  to 
the  soft,  melodious  ripple  of  the  broad  river,  and  to 
Skelton's  musical  voice  as  he  talked.  It  always  vexed 
him  when  Miles  Lightfoot  was  of  the  party,  who  was, 
however,  under  a  good  deal  of  restraint  in  Skelton's 
presence. 

On  this  particular  evening,  though,  Bulstrode  was 
dining  with  Skelton  and  Lewis.  The  room  was  dim, 
for  all  the  wax  candles  in  the  world  could  not  light 
it  brilliantly,  and  it  was  odorous  with  the  scent  of  the 
blossoms  of  a  dogwood  tree  that  bloomed  outside, 
and  even  thrust  their  bold,  pretty  faces  almost 
through  the  window.  But  Bulstrode  was  undeniably 
cross,  and  uncomfortably  attentive  to  the  decanters. 

"  And  how  did  Jaybird  do  to-day,  Lewis  ?  "  asked 
Skelton ;  but  before  Lewis  could  answer,  Bulstrode 
burst  out : 

"Jaybird  go  to  perdition!  Every  time  I  think 
of  him  I  remember  that  if  the  horse  wins  that  race, 
Blair  will  be  a  ruined  man.  That  is,  he  is  more  than 
half  ruined  already,  but  that  will  finish  him." 

"  I  shall  be  sorry,  but  I  can't  see  how  any  body 
but  Blair  can  be  held  responsible,"  answered  Skelton 
calmly.  "  If  a  man  who  can't  afford  it  will  follow 
horse  racing,  and  if  he  will  put  up  a  scrub  against  a 
thoroughbred,  why,  there's  no  stopping  him ;  that 
man  has  an  inbred  folly  that  must  bring  him  to  ruin 
some  time  or  other.  I  don't  think  this  race,  or  any 
race  especially,  will  effect  the  result.  Blair  has  a 
passion  for  gambling  on  the  turf,  and  that  will  ruin 
any  man." 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  161 

Lewis  listened  to  this  with  a  troubled  face.  Skel- 
ton's  eyes  saw  it,  and  he  felt  angry  with  Bulstrode 
for  putting  such  things  into  the  boy's  head.  And 
besides,  Lewis  was  only  fifteen,  and  suppose  his  feel- 
ings should  be  worked  upon  to  the  extent  that  he 
should  be  guilty  of  the  enormity  of  "pulling"  the 
race  ?  Skelton  hastened  to  change  the  conversation. 

The  dinner  was  shorter  than  usual  that  night,  and 
Lewis  had  to  gulp  down  the  last  half  of  his  glass  of 
wine  rather  hurriedly.  Skelton  went  off  as  usual  to 
a  corner  of  the  square  stone  porch  and  smoked 
steadily.  To  his  surprise,  Bulstrode  followed  him 
and  sat  down  on  a  bench.  After  a  while  Bulstrode 
began,  argumentatively : 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  want  to  drive  Blair  to  the 
wall." 

Skelton  took  his  cigar  from  his  lips,  and  was  silent 
with  astonishment.  Bulstrode  never  presumed  to 
force  himself  into  Skelton's  private  affairs  that  way. 

"And,"  continued  Bulstrode,  with  his  rich,  beauti- 
ful voice  full  of  tears,  "  he  has  that  sweet  and  charm- 
ing wife.  Good  God !  Skelton,  you  must  have  a 
heart  of  stone  !  " 

Skelton's  impulse  was  to  pick  up  a  chair  and 
brain  Bulstrode  on  the  spot,  but  instead,  he  only 
said  coldly : 

"  You  have  been  drinking,  Bulstrode.  You  can't 
let  a  decanter  pass  you." 

"  Yes,  I've  been  drinking,"  cried  Bulstrode,  with  a 
frank  laugh;  "but  you  know  yourself  I'm  a  much 
better  and  braver  man  drunk  than  sober.  When  I'm 
sober  I'm  cowed  by  that  devilish  cool  gentlemanli- 
ness  of  yours ;  but  when  I've  had  a  bottle  of  port 


!62  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

I'm  as  good  a  man  as  you,  Skelton;  and  I  see  that 
you  will  never  be  happy  until  you  have  made  Blair 
the  wretchedest  man  alive.  Come,  now.  You've  got 
lashings  of  money.  Blair  is  as  poor  as  a  church 
mouse.  You  have  got  everything  on  earth." 

Skelton  had  risen  during  this,  and  could  scarcely 
keep  his  hands  off  Bulstrode  where  he  sat ;  but  it  was 
grotesque  enough  that  he  could  not  make  Bulstrode 
hold  his  tongue.  He  could  only  say  between  his 
teeth : 

"  Drunken  dog!  " 

Bulstrode  rose  too  at  that,  with  a  kind  of  dogged 
courage.  "  I  am  a  drunken  dog,  I  am ! "  he  said  ; 
"but  I  am  Wat  Bulstrode,  too;  don't  forget  that. 
Don't  forget  that  I  know  a  great  deal  more  out  of 
books  than  you  do.  Don't  forget  that  you  could 
hardly  get  another  man  who  could  fill  my  place. 
Don't  forget  that  I  am  more  to  you  than  all  those 
thousands  of  volumes  you've  got  in  yonder.  Don't 
forget  that  I  am  Lewis  Pryor's  guardian  until  he  is 
one  and  twenty.  You  may  regret  that  fact,  but  you 
can't  alter  it.  And,  more  than  all — let  me  tell  you — 
/  know  all  the  very  curious  provisions  of  your  wife's 
will.  You  never  condescended  to  ask  me  to  keep 
silence,  and  I  made  you  no  promise.  Drunken  dog, 
indeed!  And  I  could  tell  that  which  would  turn  this 
county  bottom  upwards !  Suppose  I  were  to  tell  Mrs. 
Blair  to  make  herself  easy ;  that  those  fools  of  law- 
yers made  it  so  that  one  day,  whether  you  die  or 
marry,  everything  that  was  your  wife's  goes  to  your 
heirs — and  she  is  your  heir,  because  you've  got  no 
other  relations.  And  Lewis  Pryor — ah,  Skelton,  how 
many  clever  men  overreach  themselves  !  I  know,  too, 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  ^3 

that  so  bunglingly  did  these  legal  fools  their  work, 
that  if  you  could  prove  that  you  had  a  son  at  the 
time  of  your  wife's  death,  he  would  get  the  fortune. 
That  fate  was  so  desperately  at  work  against  com- 
mon sense,  that  they  forgot  to  put  in  whether  he 
should  be  entitled  to  your  name  or  not.  But  so  clev- 
erly have  you  made  it  appear  that  Lewis  Pryor  is  the 
son  of  that  lanky,  sandy-haired  tutor,  that  maybe 
you  would  have  a  hard  time  unravelling  your  own 
web.  And  so  you  think  me  a  drunken  dog,  hey? 
All  this  I  tell  you  is  as  clear  as  a  bell  in  my — drunken 
mind,  as  you  would  call  it." 

Skelton's  face  had  turned  blue  with  rage  while 
Bulstrode  was  speaking;  but  there  was  no  way  to 
make  him  stop,  except  pounding  him  with  the  chair. 
And  then,  Skelton  wanted  to  find  out  how  much  Bui- 
strode  really  knew.  Yes,  he  knew  it  all.  Well  might 
Skelton  hate  Blair  and  pursue  his  ruin.  Either  the 
Blairs  must  happen,  by  the  most  fortuitous  accident, 
to  fall  into  a  great  fortune  at  his  death,  or  else  the 
stigma  that  he  had  so  carefully  removed,  as  far  as 
the  world  knew,  from  Lewis  must  be  published  in  two 
countries.  Fury  and  dismay  kept  him  silent,  but 
Bulstrode  actually  quailed  under  his  eye  when  once 
Skelton  had  fixed  it  on  him.  Skelton  spoke  after  a 
little  pause : 

"  Your  knowledge  is  entirely  correct ;  and  more, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  proclaim  it  to  the  world  any  day 
you  feel  like  it.  The  extraordinary  part  of  it  is  that 
some  wretch,  as  loose  of  tongue  as  you,  has  not  by 
this  time  done  so.  It  is  a  wonder  that  some  creature, 
inspired  by  gratuitous  ill-will  towards  that  innocent 
boy,  has  not  already  published  his  shame.  But  the 


j64  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

•world,  that  is  so  forgiving  and  gentle  to  me,  is  al- 
ready arrayed  against  him.  The  people  in  this 
county,  for  example,  who  seek  the  society  of  the 
owner  of  Deerchase,  have  condemned  the  innocent 
boy  merely  upon  suspicion.  It  was  so  before  I 
brought  him  here.  No  man  or  woman  looked  askant 
at  me,  but  they  put  him  beyond  the  pale.  Bah  !  what 
a  world  it  is  !  " 

Bulstrode's  courage  and  swagger  had  abated  all 
the  time  Skelton  had  been  speaking.  It  never  could 
stand  up  against  Skelton's  coolness  and  determina- 
tion. But  some  impulse  of  tenderness  towards  Lewis 
made  him  say : 

"  You  need  not  fear  for  one  moment  that  I  would 
harm  the  boy.  I  too  love  him.  Unlike  the  world,  I 
hold  him  to  be  innocent  and  you  to  be  guilty." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  answered  Skelton  contemptuously, 
"you  will  not  do  him  any  harm  until  your  heedless 
tongue  begins  to  wag,  when,  in  pure  idleness  and 
wantonness,  you  will  tell  all  you  know.  However, 
the  fact  that  you  are  about  the  only  person  in  the 
world  who  takes  a  true  view  of  the  case,  saves  me 
from  kicking  you  out  of  doors.  You  must  see 
for  yourself  I  love  that  boy  with  the  strongest, 
strangest  affection.  It  has  been  my  punishment, 
to  suffer  acutely  at  all  the  contumely  heaped  upon 
him ;  to  yearn  for  the  only  thing  I  can't  give  him — 
an  equality  with  his  kind ;  to  feel  like  the  cut  of  a 
knife  every  slight,  every  covert  indignity  put  upon 
him.  I  tell  you,  had  Blair  and  his  wife  done  the 
simplest  kind  thing  for  that  boy,  I  believe  it  would 
have  disarmed  me.  But,  no ;  they  have  flouted  him 
studiously.  Blair  has  never  heard  Lewis's  name 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  165 

mentioned  before  me  without  a  look  that  made  me 
want  to  have  him  by  the  throat ;  and  in  return,  he 
shall  be  a  beggar."  Skelton  said  this  with  perfect 
coolness,  but  it  made  a  cold  chill  run  down  Bul- 
strode's  backbone.  "  The  least  kindness,  the  small- 
est gentleness,  shown  that  boy  is  eternally  remem- 
bered by  me,  and  I  have  too  little,  too  little  to 
remember.  And  shall  I  overlook  the  insolence  of 
the  Blairs  towards  him?  Ah,  no.  That  is  not  like 
me.  The  strongest  hold  you  have  over  me,  Bui- 
strode,  is  because  I  know  you  love  that  boy,  and  it 
would  distress  him  to  part  with  you.  But  I  think  I 
have  had  as  much  of  your  company  as  I  care  for 
just  now,  so  go." 

Bulstrode  went  immediately. 

Skelton  sat  on  the  porch,  or  walked  about  it,  far 
into  the  night,  until  his  rage  had  cooled  off.  He 
had  been  subject  to  those  tempests  of  still  and  al- 
most silent  passion  all  his  life,  and  a  fit  of  it  invari- 
ably left  him  profoundly  sad.  The  injustice  to  Lewis 
was  inexpressibly  hard  to  bear.  He  had  all  his  life 
enjoyed  so  much  power,  prestige,  and  distinction,  that 
the  slightest  contradiction  was  infinitely  galling  to 
him.  One  thing  he  had  fully  determined  :  the  Blairs 
should  not  get  that  money.  Rather  would  he  pro- 
claim Lewis's  birth  to  the  world.  But  with  a  thrill 
of  pride,  as  well  as  pain,  he  realised  that  it  would 
cruelly  distress  the  boy.  Skelton  knew  Lewis's  dis- 
position perfectly,  and  he  knew  the  pride,  the  deli- 
cacy, the  self-respect,  that  were  already  visible  and 
would  grow  with  the  boy's  growth.  He  felt  con- 
vinced that  Lewis  would  never  willingly  barter  what 
he  supposed  to  be  his  respectable  parentage  for  all 


!66  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

the  money  in  the  world.  And  what  would  be  the 
boy's  feelings  towards  him  ?  Would  not  Lewis  bear 
him  a  life-long  hatred  ?  And  that  suggestion  which 
Bulstrode  had  thrown  out  about  the  difficulty  of 
unravelling  the  story  of  Lewis's  birth,  which  Skelton 
had  constructed  with  so  much  ingenuity,  yes — it  must 
be  done  in  his  lifetime;  he  would  not  trust  any- 
thing to  chance.  The  game  was  up,  as  far  as  the 
Blairs  were  concerned.  And  then  he  might,  if  he 
chose,  marry  Sylvia  Shapleigh.  She  would  perhaps 
awake  his  tired  heart,  for  he  had  gone  through  with 
some  experiences  that  had  left  weariness  and  cynical 
disgust  behind  them.  But  that  the  Blairs  should  ever 
have  what  might  be  Lewis's,  that  they  should  profit 
by  those  fools  of  lawyers  in  England — Skelton  almost 
swore  aloud  at  the  bare  idea. 

He  revolved  these  things  in  his  mind  as  he  sat 
perfectly  still  in  the  corner  of  the  porch  after  his 
restlessness  had  departed. 

The  moon  rose  late,  but  the  round  silver  disc  had 
grown  bright  before  he  stirred.  He  waked  Bob 
Skinny,  sleeping  soundly  on  the  back  porch,  to  shut 
up  the  house,  and  went  upstairs  to  his  own  rooms. 
As  he  passed  through  the  upper  hall  he  saw,  to  his 
surprise,  Lewis  Pryor  sitting  in  the  deep  window 
seat,  upon  which  the  moonlight  streamed. 

"You  here  ?"  asked  Skelton,  surprised,  yet  in  his 
usual  kindly  voice. 

"Yes,"  answered  Lewis,  perfectly  wide  awake, 
and  looking  somberly  at  Skelton  in  the  ghostly 
light.  "  1  couldn't  sleep  for  thinking  of  Mrs. 
Blair.  I  must  win  that  race,  and  yet,  if  I  do  she 
will  be  unhappy,  and  that  makes  me  unhappy.  I 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY.  167 

wish  we  had  never  thought  about  the  race,  Mr. 
Skelton." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Skelton  lightly;  "but  remem- 
ber, when  you  are  riding  a  race  you  are  representing 
a  great  many  persons.  If  you  win  the  race,  Mr. 
Blair  will  have  lost  some  money;  and  if  Hilary  Blair 
wins,  a  great  many  persons  who  have  backed  you 
will  lose  money.  It  is  the  most  dishonourable  thing 
on  earth  to  willfully  lose  a  race." 

Lewis  sighed,  and  understood  very  well. 

"  Come,"  said  Skelton  good-naturedly,  "  it  is  time 
for  youngsters  like  you  to  be  in  bed.  It  is  nearly 
one  o'clock." 

Lewis  crept  off  quite  dolefully  to  his  bed,  while 
Skelton,  sad  at  heart,  remained  standing  before  the 
open  window,  gazing  at  the  glittering  moon  that 
silvered  the  lorely,  peaceful,  and  tender  landscape. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  days  that  followed  were  days  of  torture  to 
Elizabeth  Blair.  It  was  as  if  Blair  could  think  of 
nothing  but  Alabaster  and  the  famous  match.  It  got 
out  among  the  betting  fraternity  which  infests  every 
racing  community  that  Blair  had  a  superstitious 
faith  in  the  black  horse,  and  thereupon  they  beset 
him.  Blair,  in  the  coolest,  most  rational,  and  self- 
possessed  way  in  the  world,  would  give  the  most 
extraordinary  odds,  secretly  goaded  by  the  general 
disposition  in  favour  of  Jaybird.  At  home  it  seemed 
as  if  he  had  but  one  idea,  and  that  was  Alabaster. 
He  was  at  the  stables  by  dawn  of  day  to  see  if  the 
horse  was  all  right,  and  the  last  thing  he  did  at  night 
was  always  to  take  a  lantern  and  go  into  the  horse's 
stall  and  examine  everything  carefully. 

The  creature,  with  tawny,  vicious  eyes,  would 
back  his  ears  and  glare  at  him,  pawing  the  ground 
and  occasionally  hitting  a  thundering  blow  with  his 
hoof  against  the  wooden  partition  of  the  stall.  His 
coat  was  satin  smooth.  The  black  hostler  declared 
solemnly :  "  Dat  hoss,  he  see  evils,  I  know  he  do. 
Sometimes,  in  de  middle  o'  de  night,  I  heah  him 
whinnyin*  an'  gwine  on,  an*  den  he  kick  wid  he  hine 
foots  ;  dat's  a  sho'  sign." 

(168) 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  169 

One  night  Blair  came  in  the  house,  where  Mrs. 
Blair  sat  in  the  dimly  lighted  drawing-room,  with 
Mary  and  Hilary  beside  her  listening  to  her  sweet 
talk,  and,  coming  up  to  her,  said,  with  pale  lips,  "  Ala- 
baster is  off  his  feed  to-night." 

Elizabeth  felt  no  inclination  to  laugh.  Alabas- 
ter's appetite  for  his  oats  was  of  great  importance 
to  everybody  at  Newington  then.  Blair  sat  down 
heavily.  His  pallor  and  distress  were  so  great  that 
it  moved  Elizabeth  to  go  to  him  and  put  her  arms 
tenderly  about  him. 

"  Dearest,"  she  said,  "  no  matter  how  it  goes, 
try — try — to  give  this  up.  See  how  much  misery  it 
has  brought  into  our  married  life  !  It  is  well  enough 
for  men  like  Richard  Skelton,  to  whom  money  is 
nothing,  but  to  you  it  is  different.  Think  of  me — 
think  of  our  children." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  answered  Blair  drearily.  "Here 
am  I,  an  educated  man,  a  gentleman,  and  I  swear  I 
spend  more  time  in  the  society  of  stablemen  and 
jockeys  than  anywhere  else.  It  has  brought  me  and 
mine  to  beggary  almost,  and  yet — and  yet,  if  Alabas- 
ter wins,  as  he  must,  it  would  be  a  shame  not  to 
make  some  more  money  out  of  him ;  and  if  he  does 
not,  it  will  be  the  purest,  cursedest  luck  in  the 
world — the  creature  has  got  it  in  him."  And  then 
Blair's  face  softened,  and  he  took  her  hand,  and  said  ; 
"  Do  you  know,  Elizabeth,  there  is  for  me  no  pleas' 
ure  on  earth  so  great  as  that  of  getting  the  better  of 
Skelton  ?  and  for  that  you  must  thank  your  own 
sweet  self.  The  only  woman  he  ever  wanted  to 
marry  I  took  away  from  him ;  the  only  sport  he 
cares  for  I  have  sometimes  got  the  better  of  him. 


I7o  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

Now  he  thinks  to  ruin  me  on  the  turf,  but  Alabaster's 
swift  feet  will  save  us  yet,  my  girl." 

Elizabeth  said  nothing,  but  turned  away,  sighing. 

The  strain  upon  Mrs.  Blair's  mind  reacted  upon 
her  body.  She  became  weak  and  bloodless,  and  en- 
tirely lost  her  appetite.  She  went  about,  silent  as  to 
her  sufferings,  but  deathly  pale,  and  Blair  noticed 
with  alarm  that  she  not  only  did  not  eat  but  could 
not  sleep.  She  persisted  gently  that  nothing  ailed 
her,  and  would  not  agree  to  see  a  doctor;  but  Blair 
became  more  distressed  every  day  at  her  pallor  and 
weakness.  One  night,  on  opening  his  wife's  door,  he 
saw  her  sitting  at  the  window  looking  out  into  the 
dim,  moonless  night  at  the  river  that  flowed  darkly. 
Her  attitude  was  so  dejected  that  Blair  was  cut  to 
the  heart. 

"  Elizabeth,"  he  said,  "  tell  me — tell  me,  what  is  it 
that  is  wearing  your  life  away  ? " 

"Alabaster,"  answered  Elizabeth,  with  a  half 
smile. 

"  He  is  destroying  my  mind,  I  believe,"  Blair  re- 
plied gloomily  enough. 

"  Darling,"  said  Elizabeth  after  a  pause,  and  put- 
ting her  hands  on  Blair's  broad  shoulders  as  he  stood 
over  her,  "  do  you  want  to  see  me  well,  and  fresh, 
and  rosy  once  more  ? " 

"  God  knows  I  do,"  responded  Blair  with  energy. 

"Then — then — make  me  a  promise." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean,"  cried  Blair  with 
nervous  impatience.  "  You  mean  to  ask  me  to  cringe 
to  Skelton,  and  to  abandon  this  match  on  some  sub- 
terfuge or  other,  and  manage  it  so  that  all  bets  will 
be  declared  off."  In  a  moment  he  added  :  "Forgive 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


171 


me,  Elizabeth,  but  a  harassed  man  is  not  responsible 
for  every  word  he  says." 

Elizabeth  had  not  opened  her  mouth,  but  her  look 
was  enough  to  bring  an  immediate  apology. 

"  What  I  do  want — what  would  make  me  well — 
what  would  make  me  happy — is  that  you  will  promise 
me,  after  this,  to  give  up  racing.  I  have  never  asked 
this  of  you  before,  because  I  have  not  fully  realised 
the  terrible  hold  it  had  on  you.  But  I  tell  you,  in 
sober  seriousness,  that,  beyond  what  you  will  bring 
upon  yourself  and  our  children,  if  this  continues, 
I  shall  not  live  two  years.  My  body  is  still  strong, 
but  my  heart  and  my  soul  are  both  sick — sick — and 
I  know  that  I  could  die  of  grief,  and  chagrin,  and 
shame,  and  disappointment  as  readily  as  if  I  had 
been  poisoned.  I  have  struggled  ever  since  you  be- 
gan this  thing  years  ago,  but  lately  I  have  yielded 
to  despair.  Now  you  can  kill  me  or  you  can  save 
my  life." 

Blair  walked  about  the  room  with  an  agonised 
look  on  his  fine,  sunburned,  expressive  face.  He 
believed  every  word  that  Elizabeth  uttered.  Pres- 
ently he  came  up  to  her  and  cried  : 

"  Elizabeth,  will  you  promise  to  live  and  be  happy 
if  I  promise  you  never  to  start  another  horse  in  a 
race  after  this  one — never  to  back  another  horse?" 

"Yes,  I  will  give  you  my  promise  if  you  will  give 
me  yours." 

"  And,"  continued  Blair,  with  a  smile  that  had 
more  pain  than  mirth  in  it,  "  will  you  promise  me  to 
smile  again,  and  to  look  as  cheerful  as  you  used  to 
look  when  we  were  first  married,  and  to  get  back 
that  pretty  colour  that  you  once  had  in  your  cheeks  ? 


I72  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

for  I  can't  stand  such  a  woe-begone-looking  wife  an- 
other day." 

"  I  will  promise  you  to  be  so  young,  so  beautiful, 
so  gay,  that  you  will  be  amazed  at  me.  I  will  not 
only  smile,  but  laugh.  I  will  never  be  jealous  any 
more." 

"  My  dear,  don't  say  that,"  said  Blair,  really 
smiling  then ;  "  you  can't  any  more  help  going  into 
tantrums  every  time  I  look  at  a  pretty  girl  than  you 
can  help  breathing,  and,  besides,  it  diverts  me  very 
much." 

"Very  well,  then  ;  only  promise.  You  know  you 
have  never  broken  your  word  to  me,  and  your  word 
is  all  I  want." 

"Then,"  said  Blair,  after  a  pause,  "I  promise." 

He  was  still  smiling,  but  there  were  drops  upon 
his  forehead.  He  was  not  unprepared  for  this,  but 
it  was  a  crisis  with  him.  Elizabeth  overwhelmed 
him  with  sweet  endearments.  Blair  said  truly,  that 
it  was  the  beginning  of  their  second  honeymoon. 

Elizabeth  bravely  redeemed  her  promise.  In  one 
week  a  delightful  change  came  over  her.  She  tripped 
about  the  house  singing.  Her  health  returned  with 
her  spirits,  and  she  regained  in  a  few  days  what  she 
had  lost  in  as  many  weeks.  Blair  himself  experi- 
enced a  certain  relief.  He  sat  down  one  day  and 
figured  up  the  profits  he  had  made  out  of  his  planta- 
tion within  the  time  that  he  had  kept  his  "  horse  or 
two,"  and  he  was  startled  at  the  result.  But  for 
that  "  horse  or  two  "  he  would  have  been  a  rich  man. 
He  anticipated  some  terrible  struggles  in  the  future 
against  his  mania,  but  if  only  Alabaster  won — and 
he  must  win — Blair  would  have  accomplished  his  ob- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


173 


ject.  He  would  have  got  the  better  of  Skelton,  he 
would  have  won  enough — in  short,  he  would  be  just 
at  the  point  where  he  could  give  up  with  dignity  and 
comparative  ease  the  sport  that  had  so  nearly  ruined 
him. 

The  eventful  day  came  at  last — the  closing  day 
of  the  spring  meeting.  There  had  been  four  days  of 
racing  in  perfect  May  weather,  with  splendid  attend- 
ance and  a  great  concourse  of  strangers.  Skelton's 
stable  had  been  very  successful.  Every  day  the  two 
men  met  at  the  races  and  exchanged  nods  and  a  few 
words  of  ordinary  courtesy.  Sometimes  Skelton 
drove  over  tandem ;  once  he  drove  his  four-horse 
coach,  with  Lewis  Pryor  on  the  box  seat.  He  was 
always  the  observed  of  observers. 

Mrs.  Blair,  on  one  pretext  or  another,  refrained 
from  attending  the  course  upon  any  of  the  first  four 
days,  albeit  they  were  gala  occasions  in  the  county ; 
but  on  the  final  day,  when  the  great  match  was  to 
be  run,  her  high  spirit  would  not  allow  her  to  stay 
at  home.  She  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  whole 
county  understood  how  things  were  with  them,  for 
in  patriarchal  communities  everybody's  private  affairs 
are  public  property.  They  even  knew  that  Blair  had 
promised  his  wife  that  this  should  be  the  last — the 
very  last — of  his  horse  racing. 

The  day  was  very  bright  even  for  the  bright 
Southern  spring,  and  there  was  a  delicious  crispness 
in  the  golden  air.  As  Elizabeth  leaned  out  of  her 
window  soon  after  sunrise  the  beauty  and  peace 
around  her  lightened  her  weary  heart.  Newington 
had  long  fallen  into  a  picturesque  shabbiness,  to 
which  Elizabeth  was  quite  accustomed  and  did  not 


174 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


feel  to  be  a  hardship.  At  the  back  of  the  house  her 
window  opened  upon  what  had  once  been  a  prim 
garden  with  box  hedges ;  but  the  hedge  had  grown 
into  trees,  and  the  flowers  and  shrubs  had  long  ago 
forgotten  to  be  prim.  Violets,  that  are  natural  vaga- 
bonds and  marauders,  bloomed  all  over  the  garden. 
Of  gaudy  tulips,  there  were  ranks  of  bold  stragglers 
that  flaunted  their  saucy  faces  in  the  cold  east  wind, 
which  slapped  them  sharply.  There  was  an  arbour 
nearly  sinking  under  its  load  of  yellow  roses,  that 
bloomed  bravely  until  the  December  snows  covered 
them.  Down  the  river  the  dark-green  woods  of 
Deerchase  were  visible,  with  an  occasional  glimpse 
of  the  house  through  the  trees.  The  Newington 
house  faced  the  river,  and  a  great  ill-kept  lawn  sloped 
down  to  the  water.  It  was  quite  a  mile  across  to 
the  other  shore,  and  the  water  was  steely  blue  in  the 
morning  light,  except  where  a  line  of  bent  and  crip- 
pled alders  on  the  shore  made  a  shadowy  place  in  the 
brightness.  And  this  home,  so  dearly  loved  in  spite 
of  its  shabbiness,  she  might  have  to  leave.  What 
was  to  become  of  them  in  that  event  neither  she  nor 
Blair  knew.  He  understood  but  one  way  of  making 
a  living,  and  that  was  out  of  the  ground.  He  was 
essentially  a  landed  proprietor,  and  take  him  away 
from  the  land  and  he  was  as  helpless  as  a  child.  He 
might,  it  is  true,  become  manager  of  somebody's 
estate,  but  that  would  be  to  step  into  a  social  abyss, 
for  he  would  then  be  an  overseer.  In  short,  a  landed 
man  taken  away  from  his  land  in  those  days  was 
more  helpless  than  could  well  be  imagined. 

Down  by  the  stable  lot  Elizabeth  saw  a  commo- 
tion.    Alabaster  had  been  fed,  and  the  hostler  was 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  175 

bringing  him  out  of  his  stall  for  his  morning  exer- 
cise. He  came  rather  more  amiably  than  usual. 
Blair  and  Hilary  were  both  there.  Elizabeth  could 
see  Blair's  tall  figure  outlined  distinctly ;  he  was 
standing  meditatively  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
Hilary  watched  the  hostler  put  the  saddle  on  Alabas- 
ter, then  mounted,  and  rode  off,  the  creature  going 
along  quietly  enough. 

When  Blair  came  in  to  breakfast  he  wore  a  look 
of  peace  that  Elizabeth  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time 
on  his  face.  Elizabeth,  on  the  contrary,  for  once 
had  lost  some  of  her  self-control.  She  was  pale  and 
silent,  and  could  scarcely  force  a  smile  to  her  lips 
when  her  husband  gave  her  his  good-morning  kiss. 

"You  look  unhappy,  Bess,"  he  said,  "but  I  am 
more  at  ease  than  I  have  been  for  a  long  time. 
Come  what  may,  this  day  I  am  a  free  man.  Never 
since  I  grew  hair  on  my  face  have  I  not  been  in 
slavery  to  horses  and  stablemen  and  jockeys  and  the 
whole  gang.  Of  course,  it  is  no  easy  thing  to  give 
this  up ;  it  has  had  its  recompenses.  I  haven't  had 
many  happier  moments  in  my  life  than  when  Black 
Bess  romped  in  ahead  of  Skelton's  Monarch  that 
day  so  many  years  ago.  In  fact,  the  pleasure  of 
beating  Skelton  has  been  one  of  the  greatest  seduc- 
tions of  the  whole  thing.  But  when  he  put  his  mind 
to  it  he  could  beat  me.  Now,  however,  I  don't  pro- 
pose to  give  him  the  chance  again.  That  will  be 
pretty  hard  on  him,  considering  that  he  has  poured 
out  money  like  water  to  do  it.  From  this  day,  my 
dear,  I  am  no  longer  a  racing  man." 

Elizabeth  brightened  at  this.  No  matter  what 
might  come,  there  was  no  longer  this  terrible  appre- 


:76 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


hension  all  the  time  of  "  debts  of  honour  "  hanging 
over  them. 

Mrs.  Blair,  being  naturally  rather  vain  and  very 
proud,  would  have  liked  a  splendid  costume  to  wear 
on  this  momentous  occasion,  and  a  coach  and  four 
to  drive  up  to  the  grand  stand  in.  But  her  very 
best  gown  was  shabby,  and  her  carriage  was  on  its 
last  legs.  However  she  looked  remarkably  well  on 
horseback,  and  there  was  Black  Bess,  retired  from 
the  turf,  but  yet  made  a  very  fine  appearance  under 
the  saddle.  She  concluded  that  she  would  go  on 
horseback,  and  Blair  would  ride  with  her. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  day  the  Campdown  course 
was  full,  the  grand  stand  crowded  with  all  the  gen- 
try in  the  county,  and  everybody  was  on  the  tiptoe 
of  expectation.  It  was  no  mere  question  of  winning 
a  race — it  was  whether  Skelton  would  succeed  in 
ruining  Blair,  or  would  Blair  escape  from  Skelton. 
Skelton  was  on  hand,  having  ridden  over  with  Lewis. 
He  was  as  cool,  as  distinguished  looking,  as  immacu- 
lately correct  as  ever.  People  thought  he  had  little 
at  stake  compared  with  Blair.  But  Skelton  thought 
he  had  a  great  deal,  for  he  had  to  have  his  venge- 
ance then,  or  be  robbed  of  it.  He  knew  well  enough 
that  it  was  his  last  chance. 

Tom  Shapleigh  was  there,  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
and  Sylvia,  who  looked  remarkably  pretty,  and  every- 
body in  the  county,  even  Bulstrode,  who  dreaded  the 
catastrophe,  but  who  could  not  forbear  witnessing 
it.  Skelton,  with  Lewis  close  by  him,  walked  about 
the  quarter  stretch  and  infield.  Everybody  received 
him  courteously,  even  obsequiously,  for  Skelton  was 
their  local  great  man.  But  nobody  took  the  slightest 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


177 


notice  of  Lewis  beyond  a  nod.  The  boy,  with  a 
bursting  heart,  realised  this  when  he  saw  Hilary 
Blair  surrounded  by  half  a  dozen  boys  of  his  own 
age,  and  being  petted  by  the  women  and  slapped  on 
the  back  and  chaffed  by  the  older  men. 

Presently  they  came  to  the  Shapleigh  carriage. 
Sylvia  had  been  acutely  conscious  of  Skelton's  pres- 
ence ever  since  he  drove  into  the  enclosure ;  and  she 
also  had  seen  the  contempt  visited  upon  the  boy, 
and  her  tender  heart  rebelled  against  it.  As  Skel- 
ton  and  Lewis  came  up  she  turned  a  beautiful  rosy 
red,  and,  after  having  had  her  hand  tenderly  pressed 
by  Skelton,  she  opened  the  carriage  door  and  in- 
vited Lewis  to  take  a  seat  and  watch  the  first  events. 
Skelton  declined  an  invitation  of  the  same  kind  for 
himself,  and  chose  to  stand  on  the  ground  and  have 
Lewis  monopolise  the  front  seat  in  the  great  open 
barouche.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  had  joined  in  Sylvia's 
cordial  invitation,  and  so  profoundly  grateful  was 
Skelton  for  it  that  he  almost  persuaded  himself  that 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  not  half  such  a  fool  after  all. 
As  for  Sylvia,  he  thought  her  at  that  moment  ador- 
able ;  and  there  was  certainly  some  distinction  in 
her  notice,  because  she  was  commonly  counted  to  be 
the  most  spirited  girl  in  the  county,  and  one  of  the 
most  admired,  and  Miss  Sylvia  had  a  quick  wit  of 
her  own  that  could  make  her  respected  anywhere. 
Besides,  old  Tom  was  a  man  of  consequence,  so  that 
the  backing  of  the  Shapleighs  was  about  as  good  as 
anybody's. 

Sylvia  felt  intensely  sorry  for  Lewis,  and  sorry 
that  she  had  ever  sold  Alabaster  to  Blair.  The  boy 
was  very  silent,  and  was  wondering,  painfully,  for 


!7g  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

the  hundredth  time,  why  nobody  ever  noticed  him 
scarcely.  Sylvia  tried  to  cheer  him  up.  She  pinned 
a  rose  from  a  bouquet  she  carried  to  his  jacket.  She 
even  got  out  of  the  carriage  and  took  a  little  stroll 
about  the  infield,  with  Lewis  for  an  escort,  leaving 
Skelton  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Mrs.  Shapleigh. 
Sylvia  knew  well  enough  how  to  command  civility 
for  herself  as  well  as  for  Lewis,  and  when  people 
spoke  to  her  she  brought  the  boy  in  the  conversation 
with  a  pointedness  that  could  not  be  ignored.  She 
returned  after  a  while  to  the  barouche  with  a  light 
of  triumph  in  her  eyes.  She  had  managed  much 
better  than  Skelton,  with  all  of  his  distinction  and 
prestige,  women  being  naturally  much  cleverer  at 
social  fence  than  men.  Skelton  could  have  kissed 
her  hands  in  the  excess  of  his  gratitude.  He  smiled 
to  himself  as  he  thought :  "  How  much  more  power 
have  women  than  men  sometimes !  Here  is  this 
girl,  that  can  circumvent  the  whole  county,  while  I 
only  fail  in  trying  to  bully  it." 

Everybody  watched  for  the  appearance  of  Jack 
Blair  and  Mrs.  Blair,  as  the  crowd  waits  for  the  con- 
demned at  an  execution.  At  last  they  were  seen 
entering  the  enclosure.  Both  of  them  were  well 
mounted,  and  Mrs.  Blair's  black  habit  fell  against 
the  satin  coat  of  Black  Bess.  She  wore  a  hat  and 
feathers  and  sat  her  horse  like  a  Di  Vernon.  A  deli- 
cate pink  was  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes,  which 
were  usually  soft,  were  sparkling.  If  Skelton  or 
anybody  else  expected  her  to  show  any  signs  of 
weakness,  they  were  much  mistaken.  Blair  was  at 
his  best  on  horseback,  and  he  had  become  infected 
by  his  wife's  courage.  As  they  rode  into  the  infield 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  179 

they  were  greeted  cordially,  Skelton  coming  up,  hat 
in  hand,  to  make  his  compliments  to  Mrs.  Blair,  who 
stopped  her  horse  quite  close  to  the  Shapleigh  car- 
riage. The  women  spoke  to  each  other  affably. 
Lewis  was  still  in  the  carriage  as  Skelton  moved  off. 
Mrs.  Blair  at  that  moment  regretted  as  keenly  as 
Sylvia  that  Alabaster  had  ever  been  heard  of. 

Old  Tom  was  there  then,  all  sympathy  and  bluff 
good-nature.  He  felt  sorry  for  Mrs.  Blair,  and  want- 
ed to  show  it. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Mrs.  Blair  ?  Deuced  brave  woman 
you  are  to  trust  yourself  on  that  restless  beast! "  for 
Black  Bess,  irritated  by  the  people  pressing  about 
her,  threw  her  head  in  the  air  and  began  to  dance 
about  impatiently. 

"  Why,  this  is  the  very  safest  creature  in  the 
county,"  answered  Mrs.  Blair,  patting  her  horse's 
neck  to  quiet  her.  She  was  so  smiling,  so  calm,  that 
Tom  Shapleigh  was  astounded. 

"Look  here,  ma'am,"  he  cried,  "you're  a  mighty 
fine  woman  " — and  then  stopped  awkwardly.  Mrs. 
Blair  fully  appreciated  the  situation,  and  Black  Bess, 
just  then  showing  symptoms  of  backing  into  Mrs. 
Shapleigh's  lap,  a  reply  was  avoided.  Sylvia  uttered 
a  little  cry,  as  Black  Bess's  hind  feet  scraped  against 
the  wheel  and  her  long  black  tail  switched  about  un- 
comfortably in  the  carriage. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  cried  Mrs.  Blair,  with  sarcastic 
politeness,  "  I  can  manage  her." 

"I  hope  so,"  devoutly  answered  Sylvia;  and  old 
Tom  asked : 

"  Blair,  why  do  you  let  your  wife  ride  that  rest- 
less creature  ? " 


!go  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

"  Because  I  can't  prevent  her,"  answered  Blair, 
laughing.  "When  Mrs.  Blair  wants  Black  Bess  sad- 
dled she  has  it  done.  I'm  the  most  petticoated  man 
in  the  county." 

At  which  Mrs.  Blair  laughed  prettily.  The  hen- 
pecked men  are  never  the  ones  who  parade  the  fact 
openly. 

The  scene  was  very  animated.  The  sun  shone 
hotly  upon  the  white  track  and  the  tramped  infield 
and  the  crowds  of  carriages  and  horsemen.  The 
women  wore  their  gayest  dresses,  and  in  those  days 
men  were  not  confined  to  sombre  black,  and  claret- 
coloured  coats  and  blue  coats  and  bottle-green  coats 
were  common  enough.  Skelton  did  not  wholly  de- 
vote himself  to  Sylvia,  although  Lewis  still  kept  his 
place  opposite  her,  but  went  about  shaking  hands 
with  the  men  and  making  himself  unusually  agree- 
able to  the  women.  In  spite  of  the  general  knowl- 
edge that  Skelton  would  lose  the  main  part  of  his 
fortune  if  he  married  again,  he  was  still  an  object  of 
interest  to  the  feminine  contingent,  who  knew  that 
Skelton  was  a  good  deal  of  a  man  whether  he  had  a 
great  fortune  or  not.  He  never  went  into  the  society 
of  women,  though,  that  he  did  not  feel  that  bond  of  the 
dead  woman  upon  his  liberty.  He  loved  his  liberty 
so  dearly,  that  not  even  that  splendid  fortune  could 
wholly  make  up  for  it ;  he  wanted  all  of  the  power  of 
money,  but  he  wanted  to  be  as  free  as  other  men 
were  ;  and  as  it  was,  he  was  not  free,  but  a  slave. 
And  he  had  so  much,  that  a  crumpled  rose-leaf 
troubled  him.  He  could  have  made  Lewis  Pryor  his 
heir,  and  he  could  have  married  Sylvia  Shapleigh 
and  have  been  rich  and  happy  at  Deerchase,  but  that 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  jgi 

would  involve  putting  a  stain  upon  Lewis;  and  that 
was  the  worst  thing  in  the  world  except  one — letting 
the  Blairs  have  the  money.  But  some  day  it  must 
come  ;  and  he  caught  himself  debating,  in  the  inter- 
vals of  talk  with  men  and  women,  that,  after  all,  he 
might  not  make  a  bad  exchange — his  fortune  for 
Sylvia.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  money,  beyond  a  cer- 
tain expenditure,  did  him  very  little  good.  He  had 
all  the  books  he  wanted — more  than  were  good  for 
him,  he  sometimes  suspected.  He  had  some  pictures 
and  curios,  but  in  those  days  the  art  of  collecting 
was  practically  unknown.  Of  course,  money  implied 
a  mastery  of  conditions,  and  that  was  the  breath  of 
his  nostrils;  but  conditions  could  be  mastered  with 
less  money  than  he  had.  If  only  Lewis  could  be 
spared  the  shame  awaiting  him  !  Skelton's  eye  sought 
him  occasionally,  as  he  still  sat  in  the  Shapleighs' 
barouche.  Sylvia  looked  lovely  to  him  then  because 
she  was  so  sweet  to  Lewis.  Mrs.  Blair,  too,  was 
watched  by  Skelton,  and  he  was  forced  to  admire  her 
perfectly  indomitable  pluck.  It  was  far  superior  to 
her  husband's,  who,  after  a  brave  effort  to  appear 
unconcerned  as  the  saddling  bell  rung  in  the  last 
race,  finally  dashed  off,  and,  jumping  his  horse  over 
the  fence,  disappeared  amid  the  crowd  of  men  in  the 
paddock.  Elizabeth  gave  a  quick  glance  around, 
and  for  an  instant  a  sort  of  anguish  appeared  in 
her  expressive  eyes.  But  in  the  next  moment  she 
was  again  easy,  graceful,  unconcerned.  One  would 
have  thought  it  a  friendly  match  between  her  boy 
and  Lewis  Pryor  on  their  ponies.  Lewis  had  then 
disappeared,  of  course,  but  by  some  odd  chance 
Skelton  was  close  to  Mrs.  Blair.  He  saw  that  she 


,82  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

was  in  a  passion  of  nervousness,  and  he  had  pity 
enough  for  her  to  move  away  when  the  horses  were 
coming  out  of  the  paddock  and  the  boys  were  being 
weighed.  But  just  then  Blair  rode  up  to  his  wife's 
side.  His  face  was  flushed,  and  he  had  a  triumphant 
ring  in  his  voice  as  he  said  to  Elizabeth,  while  look- 
ing at  Skelton  sharply : 

"  The  boy  is  all  right.  I  saw  the  horse  saddled 
myself,  and  Hilary  knows  what  to  do  in  any  emer- 
gency." 

Skelton  knew  perfectly  well,  when  Blair  said  "  the 
boy  is  all  right,"  he  meant  the  horse  was  all  right. 
Blair's  face  was  menacing  and  triumphant;  he  began 
to  talk  to  Skelton,  who  at  once  took  it  as  a  challenge 
to  stay.  Blair  thought  Skelton  bound  to  lose,  and 
those  savage  instincts  that  still  dwell  in  every  human 
breast  came  uppermost.  At  the  moment,  he  wanted  to 
enjoy  his  triumph  over  Skelton.  Exactly  the  same 
thoughts  burned  in  Skelton 's  mind.  An  impulse  of 
pity  would  have  made  him  spare  Mrs.  Blair  the  pain 
of  his  presence,  but  he  could  feel  no  pity  for  Blair. 

The  two  horses  were  now  prancing  before  the 
grand  stand.  Jaybird  was  a  magnificent,  clean- 
limbed bay,  with  an  air  of  equine  aristocracy  written 
all  over  him.  He  was  perfectly  gentle,  and  even 
playful,  and  apparently  knew  quite  well  what  was  up. 
Lewis,  his  dark  boyish  face  flushed,  cantered  him 
past  the  grand  stand,  and  to  the  starting  post,  where 
Jaybird  stood  as  motionless  as  a  bronze  horse.  But 
not  the  slightest  welcome  was  accorded  Lewis  Pryor. 
Not  a  cheer  broke  the  silence,  until  old  Tom  Shap- 
leigh,  in  his  strident  voice,  sent  up  a  great  "  Hurrah ! " 
A  few  faint  echoes  followed.  But  one  handkerchief 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  ^3 

was  waved,  and  that  was  in  Sylvia  Shapleigh's  hand. 
Skelton,  whose  feelings  during  this  could  not  be  de- 
scribed, observed  that  Sylvia's  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
The  cruel  indifference  of  the  world  then  present  was 
heart-breaking.  Lewis,  with  his  face  set,  looked 
straight  before  him,  with  proud  unconsciousness  even 
when  a  storm  of  applause  broke  forth  for  Hilary 
Blair. 

Alabaster's  behaviour  was  in  total  contrast  to 
Jaybird's  well-bred  dignity.  He  came  out  of  the  pad- 
dock kicking  and  lunging,  and  only  the  most  perfect 
horsemanship  on  Hilary's  part  kept  him  anywhere 
within  bounds.  The  applause  seemed  to  madden 
him  ;  he  reared,  then  came  down  on  his  front  feet, 
trembling  in  every  limb,  not  with  fear  but  with  rage. 
But,  as  Blair  had  said,  he  might  as  well  try  to  throw 
a  grasshopper  as  Hilary.  The  boy's  coolness  and 
admirable  management  only  caused  the  more  ap- 
plause, and  this  still  more  excited  the  black  horse. 
Hilary  was  forced  to  give  him  a  turn  half  way  around 
the  course  to  bring  him  down.  During  all  this,  poor 
Lewis  sat  like  a  statue  at  the  starting  post.  Jaybird 
had  had  his  warming-up  gallop  before,  and  Lewis 
felt  that  it  would  be  like  an  effort  to  divide  the  ap- 
plause of  the  crowd  if  he  showed  the  bay  off  during 
Alabaster's  gyrations.  But  what  would  he  not  have 
given  for  some  of  the  kind  glances  that  were  showered 
upon  Hilary  ! 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blair  were  still  close  to  the  Shap- 
leighs,  and  Skelton  was  standing  between  them  and 
the  carriage.  He  glanced  towards  Sylvia  and  saw  the 
troubled  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  Are  you  losing  faith  in  your  young  admirer  ?  " 


!84  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

asked  Skelton,  smiling,  and  moving  a  step  towards 
the  carriage, 

"  No,"  answered  Sylvia,  "  but — but — why  did  I 
ever  let  Mr.  Blair  have  Alabaster !  Perhaps  I  have 
done  him  the  greatest  injury  of  his  whole  life." 

"  No,  you  have  not,"  replied  Skelton,  in  his  mu- 
sical, penetrating  voice,  which  Blair,  whose  attention 
was  abnormal  that  day,  could  hear  distinctly  ;  "  you 
have  probably  done  that  which  will  cure  Mr.  Blair 
of  racing  the  entire  rest  of  his  life." 

Blair  heard  the  reply  and  surmised  the  question. 
He  smiled  insultingly  at  Skelton,  who,  however,  pos- 
sessed in  perfection  the  power  to  appear  unconcerned 
when  he  wished  it. 

The  two  horses  were  now  at  the  post,  and  the 
starter  was  making  his  way  towards  his  place.  There 
was  an  intense,  suppressed  excitement  following  the 
cheering  that  kept  the  whole  crowd  silent.  Nearly 
everybody  present  had  something  on  one  horse  or  the 
other  ;  and  then,  they  all  knew  that  it  was  more  than 
a  match  between  Jaybird  and  Alabaster — it  was  a 
life-and-death  contest  between  Blair  and  Skelton. 
But  then  the  starter  was  in  place  and  was  trying  to 
get  the  horses  off.  Skelton  longed  to  call  Lewis  to 
the  fence  and  give  him  a  few  last  words  of  advice, 
but  as  Blair  did  not  speak  to  Hilary  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  show  less  want  of  confidence  in 
Lewis. 

Hilary  had  the  inside  place.  There  was  great  dif- 
ficulty in  starting  the  horses,  owing  to  Alabaster's 
ill  humour,  and  they  were  turned  back  half  a  dozen 
times.  Each  time  Elizabeth's  heart  grew  fainter. 
Alabaster  was  becoming  more  wildly  excited,  and  the 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  jg^ 

bright  gleam  of  the  bit,  as  he  champed  it,  throwing 
his  head  about  fiercely,  could  plainly  be  seen.  He 
had  a  way  of  getting  the  bit  between  his  teeth,  when 
he  would  stop  short  in  his  course  and  indulge  in 
every  wickedness  known  to  horseflesh.  If  he  ever 
began  those  performances  after  the  flag  fell  he  was 
gone.  The  Blairs  watched,  in  the  dazzling  sunlight, 
Hilary  stroking  the  horse's  neck,  saying  encouraging 
words  and  trying  to  keep  him  down.  At  last,  when 
they  were  turned  back  for  the  fourth  time,  Alabaster 
ducked  his  head,  and,  raising  his  forefoot,  brought  it 
down  with  a  crash  on  the  rickety  fence  that  separated 
the  track  from  the  infield.  Elizabeth  trembled  visibly 
at  that,  and  Blair  ground  his  teeth.  That  pawing  per- 
formance was  always  the  beginning  of  the  horse's 
most  violent  tantrums. 

Jaybird,  who  was  well  bred  as  well  as  thorough- 
bred, was  in  agreeable  contrast  to  Alabaster.  He 
was  perfectly  manageable,  although  eager,  and 
showed  not  the  slightest  temper  or  nervousness. 

At  last  a  cheer  rose.  They  were  off.  Skelton 
had  had  his  horse  brought,  and  had  mounted  so  as 
to  see  the  course  better.  Old  Tom  Shapleigh  stood 
up  in  the  barouche  for  the  same  purpose.  The  race 
was  to  be  once  around  the  mile-and-a-quarter  track, 
with  four  hurdles  and  two  water  jumps.  As  soon  as 
the  horses  were  fairly  started  Alabaster  began  to  lag 
sullenly.  He  had  got  the  bit  between  his  teeth  and 
was  champing  it  furiously,  the  foam  flowing  in  all 
directions.  Jaybird  had  taken  the  inside  track,  and 
was  going  along  easily.  He  could  win  in  a  canter  if 
that  sort  of  thing  was  kept  up.  Still,  Hilary  did  not 
touch  Alabaster  with  either  whip  or  spur.  "  Great 


!86  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

God  !  "  cried  old  Tom,  who  had  some  money  on  Ala- 
baster, to  nobody  in  particular,  "  why  doesn't  the 
boy  give  him  the  spur  ? " 

"  Because,"  said  Mrs.  Blair  in  a  sweet,  composed 
voice,  "  he  is  in  a  temper,  and  to  be  touched  with  a 
spur  would  simply  make  him  more  unmanageable 
than  he  is  now.  My  son  knows  what  to  do,  you  may 
depend  upon  it.'* 

Elizabeth  was  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  was 
saying,  but  nobody  should  find  fault  with  Hilary  then. 
Skelton,  chancing  to  meet  her  glance  at  that  moment, 
mechanically  raised  his  hat.  There  was  a  woman  for 
you  !  Blair  leaned  over  and  grasped  the  pommel  of 
his  wife's  saddle,  as  if  to  steady  himself.  He  was 
ashy  pale  and  trembling  in  every  limb. 

There  were  two  hurdles  before  the  water  jump. 
Alabaster  did  not  refuse  either  hurdle,  but  at  the 
water  jump  he  swerved  for  an  instant,  only  to  take 
it  the  next  moment.  Hilary  still  showed  the  most 
wonderful  self-possession ;  and  as  for  Lewis  Pryor, 
his  intelligence  in  letting  the  sulky  horse  set  the 
pace  was  obvious.  Nevertheless,  he  was  wary,  and 
was  drawing  ahead  so  gradually  that  Jaybird  actually 
did  not  feel  the  strain  upon  him.  He  had  taken  all 
three  jumps  like  a  bird.  Alabaster  was  running 
along,  his  head  down  and  his  ears  backed.  The 
thousands  of  people  with  money  on  him  watched 
him  with  a  kind  of  hatred.  One  old  fellow,  who  had 
perched  himself  on  the  fence,  took  off  his  battered 
beaver,  and,  as  Alabaster  passed  him,  he  suddenly 
threw  the  old  hat  full  at  the  horse,  shouting,  "  Run, 
you  rascal,  run ! " 

Blair,  who   saw  and   heard   it   across   the   field, 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  187 

uttered  a  slight  groan  ;  Elizabeth  grew,  if  anything, 
more  ghastly  pale  than  before.  They  both  thought 
the  horse  would  stop  then  and  there  and  begin  his 
rearing  and  pitching.  The  effect,  though,  was  exactly 
the  contrary.  Alabaster  suddenly  raised  his  head, 
cocked  his  ears,  and  went  in  for  the  race.  Blair 
gave  a  gasp,  and  the  crowd  another  cheer ;  now 
there  was  going  to  be  a  race  in  earnest. 

The  horse  lengthened  his  stride,  and  the  bit, 
which  he  had  hitherto  held  on  to  viciously,  slipped 
back  into  his  mouth.  Hilary  touched  him  lightly 
with  the  spur,  and  in  half  a  dozen  strides  he  was  up 
to  Jaybird,  who  was  still  going  steadily. 

Skelton  was  afraid  that  Lewis  would  lose  his  head 
and  go  blundering  at  the  hurdles.  But  he  did  not; 
he  lifted  the  horse  over  them  beautifully,  a  little  in 
advance  of  Alabaster,  who  went  at  them  furiously, 
and  knocked  them  both  down.  It  was  neck  and  neck 
to  the  water  jump.  Both  horses  were  then  flying 
along.  Alabaster's  black  coat  was  as  wet  as  if  he 
had  been  in  the  river,  but  Jaybird  gave  no  sign  of  dis- 
tress. As  they  neared  the  jump,  Alabaster  increased 
his  stride  superbly.  It  was  plain  what  Jaybird  could 
do,  but  it  was  a  mystery  still  how  much  speed  the 
half-bred  horse  had.  Alabaster  rushed  at  the  water 
jump  as  if  he  were  about  to  throw  himself  headlong 
into  it,  and  cleared  it  with  a  foot  to  spare ;  Jaybird 
followed  a  moment  after.  His  hind  feet  slipped  as 
he  landed  on  the  other  side,  and  it  was  a  half  minute 
before  he  recovered  his  stride.  Alabaster  was  then 
three  lengths  ahead,  and  Hilary  was  giving  him 
whip  and  spur  mercilessly.  Nothing  that  Jaybird 
had  yet  showed  could  overcome  those  three 


jgg  CHILDREN   OF    DESTINY. 

lengths  at  the  magnificent  rate  the  black  horse  was 
going. 

The  crowd  burst  into  a  mighty  shout:  "Alabaster 
wins !  Alabaster  !  Alabaster !  " 

Blair  experienced  one  of  the  most  delicious  mo- 
ments of  his  life  then.  He  turned  and  looked  Skel- 
ton  squarely  in  the  eye.  He  said  not  a  word,  but 
the  look  was  eloquent  with  hatred  and  triumph. 
Skelton  faced  him  as  quietly  as  ever.  Blair  turned 
his  horse's  head ;  the  race  was  his — Newington  was 
saved — he  was  saved  ! 

"  Mr.  Blair,"  said  Skelton,  at  that  instant,  in  his 
peculiar  musical  drawl,  and  with  a  smile  that  showed 
every  one  of  his  white,  even  teeth,  "  your  boy  is 
down." 

Blair  glanced  towards  the  track,  and  the  sight 
seemed  to  paralyse  him.  Alabaster  was  rolling  over, 
struggling  violently,  with  both  forelegs  broken  and 
hanging.  He  had  slipped  upon  a  muddy  spot,  and 
gone  down  with  frightful  force.  It  was  terrible  to 
see.  Hilary  was  lying  perfectly  limp  on  the  ground, 
some  distance  away.  The  people  were  yelling  from 
sheer  excitement,  and  in  a  second  a  crowd  had  run 
towards  the  prostrate  horse  and  boy.  Blair  found 
himself,  he  knew  not  how,  on  the  spot.  Some  one 
shouted  to  him  :  "  He's  alive — he  breathes — he's 
coming  to! " 

Before  waiting  to  hear  more  about  Hilary,  Blair 
ran  up  to  the  struggling  horse,  and,  with  the  savage 
instinct  that  had  seemed  to  possess  him  all  along  re- 
garding the  creature,  stamped  his  foot  violently  a 
dozen  times  in  its  quivering  flank.  The  horse,  half 
dead,  sank  back  and  ceased  its  convulsive  efforts, 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  jg^ 

fixing  its  glazing  eyes  on  Blair  with  a  dumb  reproach. 
Blair,  struck  with  shame  and  horror  and  remorse  at 
his  action,  knelt  down  on  the  ground  and  took  the 
horse's  head  in  his  arms. 

"  My  poor  beauty!  "  he  cried,  "  my  poor  beauty  !  " 
Mrs.  Blair  had  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  saddle, 
looking  before  her  with  unseeing  eyes,  until  Blair 
kicked  the  dying  horse;  then,  without  a  word  or  a 
cry,  she  fell  over.  Skelton  caught  her  in  his  arms. 
He  laid  her  down  upon  the  grass,  and  Sylvia  Shap- 
leigh,  jumping  out  of  the  carriage,  ran  to  her.  Peo- 
ple crowded  around.  Here  was  a  tragedy  for  the 
Blairs  with  a  vengeance — Hilary  perhaps  killed, 
Blair  ruined  and  making  a  brute  of  himself  before 
the  whole  county,  and  Mrs.  Blair  falling  insensible. 
It  was  ten  minutes  before  she  opened  her  eyes,  and 
then  only  when  Lewis  Pryor,  making  his  way  through 
the  people  surrounding  her,  threw  himself  beside  her 
and  cried,  "  Dear  Mrs.  Blair,  it  was  not  my  fault ;  and 
he  is  alive !  he  is  alive  !  " 

The  boy's  dark  face  was  grimed  with  dust  and 
tears.  As  Skelton  looked  at  him,  the  feeling  that  it 
might  have  been  Lewis  who  was  thrown  made  him 
long  to  open  his  arms  and  hold  the  boy  to  his  heart. 
But  he  did  not ;  he  only  gave  him  a  slight  pat  on 
the  shoulder.  Lewis  was  crying  a  little,  completely 
overcome  by  the  excitement.  Everybody,  particu- 
larly those  who  had  lost  money  on  Alabaster,  scowled 
at  him.  But  Sylvia  Shapleigh,  drawing  the  boy  to- 
wards her,  took  her  own  white  handkerchief  and  wiped 
his  eyes,  and  entreated  him  to  control  himself.  Skel- 
ton, on  seeing  that,  vowed  that,  if  ever  he  married,  it 
would  be  to  Sylvia  Shapleigh. 
13 


190 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


Mrs.  Blair,  although  more  than  half  conscious  by 
that  time,  yet  could  not  take  it  all  in.  She  seemed 
to  be  lingering  on  the  borders  of  a  dim  world  of  peace 
and  sweet  forgetfulness,  and  she  dreaded  to  come 
back  to  the  pain  and  stress  from  which  she  had  just 
escaped  for  a  moment  or  two.  All  at  once  every- 
thing returned  to  her  with  a  rush.  She  saw  Hilary 
go  down.  She  saw  Blair's  furious  and  insane  action. 
She  uttered  a  groan  and  opened  her  eyes,  which  at 
once  fell  on  Skelton's. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  painful  moments  of  Skel- 
ton's whole  life.  He  did  not  relish  taking  vengeance 
on  a  woman. 

Mrs.  Blair,  as  if  inspired  by  a  new  spirit,  sat  up, 
and  disdaining  Skelton's  arm,  and  even  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh's  or  Sylvia's,  rose  to  her  feet.  Just  then  Blair 
came  up.  In  ten  minutes  he  had  aged  ten  years. 
He  had  had  a  crazy  moment  or  two,  but  now  he  was 
deadly  calm  and  pale. 

"The  boy  is  all  right,"  he  said.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Hilary  was  far  from  all  right,  but  Blair  did  not 
intend  to  tell  Mrs.  Blair  then.  "  Mr.  Bulstrode  has 
already  put  him  in  his  chaise,  and  will  take  him 
home.  Do  you  feel  able  to  ride  home  ? " 

Sylvia  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh  and  old  Tom  at  once 
offered  the  barouche.  Skelton  had  withdrawn  a  little 
from  the  group,  to  spare  Mrs.  Blair  the  sight  of  him. 

Mrs.  Blair  declined  the  carriage  rather  stiffly.  She 
was  a  strong-nerved  though  delicately  made  woman, 
and  she  meant  to  go  through  with  it  bravely. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  will  ride." 

Something  in  her  eye  showed  all  of  them,  includ- 
ing Blair,  that  it  was  useless  to  protest.  Her  husband 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY.  191 

swung  her  into  the  saddle,  and  she  gathered  up  the 
reins  in  her  trembling  hands.  Meanwhile  her  eye 
fell  upon  Lewis,  standing  by  Sylvia  Shapleigh,  his 
eyes  still  full  of  tears. 

"  Please  forgive  me,  Mrs.  Blair,"  he  said. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  answered,  feel- 
ing, in  the  midst  of  her  own  distress,  the  acutest 
sympathy  for  the  lad ;  "  it  was  purely  an  accident. 
I  hope  you  will  come  to  see  Hilary." 

Lewis  thanked  her,  with  tears  in  his  voice  as  well 
as  his  eyes. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blair  rode  off  the  field  together. 
People  gave  them  all  the  room  they  wanted,  for  they 
were  encompassed  with  the  dignity  of  misfortune. 
They  did  not  take  the  main  road,  which  was  full  of 
people  in  gigs  and  chaises  and  carriages  and  on 
horseback,  all  talking  about  the  Blairs'  affairs  and 
Skelton  and  everything  connected  with  them.  They 
took  a  private  road  through  the  woods  that  led  to 
the  Newington  lane.  Mrs.  Blair  did  not  know 
whether  Alabaster  were  dead  or  alive. 

"What  has  become  of  the  horse?"  she  asked 
presently. 

"  Shot,"  replied  Blair  briefly. 

Mrs.'  Blair  looked  at  him  intently,  to  see  what 
effect  this  had  on  him,  but  strangely  enough  his  face 
wore  a  look  of  relief,  and  his  eyes  had  lost  the  hunted 
expression  they  had  worn  for  months. 

"But  I  thought  you  loved  that  horse  so — so 
superstitiously." 

"  So  I  did.  It  was  a  madness.  But  it  is  past.  I 
am  a  free  man  now.  If  the  horse  had  lived  and  had 
won  the  race,  sometimes — sometimes  I  doubted  if  I 


192 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


could  have  kept  my  word.  But  it  is  easy  enough 
now.  We  are  ruined,  Elizabeth ;  that's  what  running 
away  with  Jack  Blair  has  brought  you  to,  but  after 
this  you  can  never  reproach  me  again  with  racing. 
It  has  been  your  only  rival ;  and  I  tell  you,  my  girl, 
it  is  you  that  has  made  Skelton  and  me  hate  each 
other  so." 

What  woman  could  be  insensible  to  the  subtile 
flattery  contained  in  such  language  at  such  a  time  ? 
Elizabeth  at  that  instant  forgave  Blair  every  anxiety 
he  had  made  her  suffer  during  all  their  married  life, 
and  professed  a  perfect  willingness  to  run  away  with 
him  again  under  the  same  circumstances.  One  thing 
was  certain,  she  could  believe  what  Blair  told  her ; 
he  never  lied  to  her  in  his  life,  and  his  word  was  as 
dear  to  him  as  his  soul. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

LEWIS  PRYOR  was  in  the  greatest  distress  over 
the  result  of  the  match,  and  in  riding  back  to  Deer- 
chase,  by  Skelton's  side,  he  was  the  most  doleful  boy 
that  ever  was  seen.  Skelton  was  in  a  violent  fury 
over  the  treatment  accorded  the  boy,  and  felt  like 
marrying  Sylvia  Shapleigh  out  of  hand  and  estab- 
lishing her  at  Deerchase  for  the  purpose  of  spiting 
the  other  women  in  the  county. 

Next  morning  Lewis  asked  Bulstrode  if  he  might 
ride  over  to  Newington  to  inquire  after  Hilary  and 
Mrs.  Blair. 

"  Deuced  if  I  know,"  answered  Bulstrode.  "  I 
haven't  the  least  objection ;  but  you'd  better  ask 
Mr.  Skelton." 

Lewis,  without  saying  a  word  to  Skelton,  got  on 
his  pony  and  rode  to  Newington.  Blair  met  him  at 
the  door,  and  for  the  first  time  he  laid  aside  the 
freezing  air  he  had  always  maintained  towards  the 
boy  and  was  extremely  cordial.  Hilary  was  far  from 
all  right ;  the  horse  had  rolled  on  him,  and  it  would 
be  some  time  yet  before  they  could  tell  how  badly 
hurt  he  was.  Mrs.  Blair  felt  better,  but  was  a  good 
deal  shaken  by  the  shock.  Lewis  was  so  over- 
come at  this  that  Blair  felt  sorry  for  the  boy,  and 
said  : 


I94 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


"  However,  come  in  the  house.  Mrs.  Blair  would 
like  to  see  you  ;  and  Hilary,  too,  if  he  is  able." 

Lewis  walked  into  the  house  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  and  sat  down  alone  in  the  drawing-room. 
In  a  few  moments  Blair  came  to  fetch  him,  and  con- 
ducted him  to  Hilary's  room.  Mrs.  Blair  sat  by  the 
bed  on  which  Hilary  lay,  and  as  soon  as  Lewis  en- 
tered she  rose  and  went  towards  him  with  much 
sweetness  of  manner.  Hilary,  too,  welcomed  him 
feebly.  Poor  Lewis  could  hardly  refrain  from  tears. 
He  felt  himself  the  author  of  more  grief  and  pain  to 
other  people  than  anybody  in  the  whole  world.  And 
he  even  envied  Hilary,  lying  helplessly  in  the  bed. 
His  mother  watched  him  fondly ;  his  father  sat  by 
him — and  it  was  always  a  pretty  sight  to  see  Blair 
with  his  children  ;  while  little  Mary  promised  Hilary 
that,  if  he  should  be  a  cripple  for  life,  she  would 
abandon  all  ideas  of  matrimony  and  devote  her  life 
to  him.  The  little  girl,  who  was  uncommonly  pretty, 
was  disposed  to  regard  Lewis  as  an  enemy,  but  was 
finally  coaxed  into  magnanimity,  and  even  conde- 
scended to  sit  on  his  knee. 

When  Lewis  rose  to  go,  Mrs.  Blair  accompanied 
him  to  the  door.  He  made  her  a  thousand  earnest 
apologies,  to  which  Mrs.  Blair  replied  generously. 
Even  Blair  himself  was  kind  to  the  boy,  who  left 
them  with  an  overflowing  heart.  Hilary  had  asked 
him  to  come  again,  and  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blair  had 
repeated  the  invitation. 

Skelton,  sitting  at  Deerchase  in  the  library,  was 
triumphant,  but  far  from  happy.  Towards  noon  he 
missed  Lewis,  and  happening  across  Bulstrode  in  the 
stone  porch,  he  inquired  for  the  boy. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  195 

"Don't  know,"  answered  Bulstrode,  adding,  with 
a  grin  :  "  He  asked  me  about  going  to  Newington. 
I  told  him  I  had  no  objection,  and  advised  him  to 
ask  you — and  by  the  Lord  Harry!  I  shouldn't  be 
surprised  if  he  had  gone." 

A  very  little  inquiry  showed  that  Newington  was 
precisely  where  Lewis  had  gone.  Bulstrode  was  se- 
cretly much  amused. 

"Birds  of  a  feather — Skelton  and  Lewis.  The 
boy  is  giving  him  a  dose  of  his  own  medicine." 

All  Skelton  said  was  to  direct  the  servants  im- 
mediately upon  Lewis's  arrival  to  let  him  know. 

When  Lewis  appeared  he  was  met  by  Bob  Skinny, 
who  directed  him  mysteriously  to  "de  libery.  An' 
Mr.  Skelton,  he  f'yarly  sizzlin',  he  so  mad." 

Lewis  walked  into  the  library  quite  coolly.  Skel- 
ton wheeled  around  and  said,  in  a  voice  very  unlike 
his  usual  almost  caressing  tone : 

"  Have  you  been  to  Newington,  Lewis  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Lewis  calmly. 

"  I  considered  it  unnecessary  to  tell  you  not  to 
go,  as  you  know,  of  course,  the  relations  between 
Mr.  Blair  and  myself  are  not  cordial ;  and  it  never 
occurred  to  me  that  you  would  go  off  in  this  man- 
ner, in  direct  defiance  of  what  you  know  must  be 
my  wishes." 

"  I  asked  Mr.  Bulstrode,  sir,"  answered  Lewis  in 
a  very  soft,  composed  voice.  "  He  told  me  he  had 
no  objection.  It's  true  he  advised  me  to  ask  you ; 
but  Mr.  Bulstrode  is  my  guardian,  and  when  I  have 
his  permission  I  don't  need  anybody  else's,  sir." 

Lewis  had  in  perfection  Skelton's  trick  of  express- 
ing the  utmost  defiance  in  the  most  moderate  tone. 


!Q6  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

There  was  nothing  approaching  insolence  in  his  man- 
ner, but  a  perfect  knowledge  of  his  rights  and  a  de- 
termination to  stand  upon  them.  Skelton  was  en- 
tirely at  a  loss  for  a  moment  or  two.  He  had  not 
the  slightest  means  of  enforcing  obedience  from  the 
boy,  except  a  threat  of  sending  him  away  from  Deer- 
chase,  and  he  suspected  that  was  just  what  would 
have  pleased  Lewis  best.  But  he  spoke  in  a  tone  of 
stern  command  that  he  had  never  used  towards  the 
boy  before. 

"  Mr.  Bulstrode  seems  to  have  had  the  right  con- 
ception of  the  respect  you  owe  me,"  he  said,  after  a 
pause,  "but  I  find  you  did  not  heed  his  very  rational 
advice.  Now,  understand  me  distinctly  :  I  do  not 
intend  that  you  shall  go  to  Newington,  and  I  shall 
find  means  to  enforce  my  wishes." 

Lewis  bowed  and  went  out.  He  could  not  dis- 
regard anything  so  positive  as  that. 

But  after  Lewis  had  gone  out  and  Skelton  was 
left  alone  with  his  anger,  he  could  not  but  feel  proud 
of  the  boy's  spirit  and  independence,  as  well  as  his 
shrewdness  in  getting  Bulstrode's  half  permission. 
It  was  no  ordinary  boy  that  could  coolly  go  against 
Skelton's  wishes  and  then  so  aptly  justify  himself. 
Skelton  felt  proud  of  Lewis's  spirit  even  when  it  was 
directed  against  himself. 

Hilary  Blair  did  not  get  well  at  once — indeed,  it 
looked  at  one  time  as  if  he  would  never  get  well  at 
all.  Then,  there  was  an  execution  out  against  Blair, 
and,  altogether,  the  affairs  of  the  family  seemed  to 
be  about  as  desperate  as  could  be.  Conyers  need 
no  longer  preach  sermons  against  horse  racing.  Jack 
Blair's  case  was  an  object  lesson  that  was  worth  all 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  197 

the  sermons  ever  preached.  Still  Conyers  felt  it  his 
duty  to  add  warning  to  warning,  and  he  gave  his 
congregation  another  discourse  against  gambling  and 
betting  of  all  sorts  that  was  received  much  more  re- 
spectfully than  the  former  one.  Even  old  Tom  Shap- 
leigh  forgot  to  scoff.  It  is  true  that  remorse,  or 
rather  regret,  had  much  to  do  with  old  Tom's  feel- 
ings. But  for  that  unlucky  horse,  which  he  had  so 
proudly  exhibited  to  Blair,  and  that  equally  unlucky 
agreement  to  leave  the  matter  to  Sylvia,  when  Blair 
could  always  talk  the  women  around,  he  would  not 
have  been  minus  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  Syl- 
via herself  endured  all  the  distress  that  a  tender  and 
sensitive  soul  would  suffer  who  had,  however  inno- 
cently, become  a  contributor  to  such  a  tragedy. 

"I  wish  I  had  poisoned  the  horse,"  groaned  old 
Tom. 

"  I  wish  so,  too,"  devoutly  added  Sylvia. 

"I'm  sure  I'm  sorry  Mr.  Blair  lost  his  money; 
but  you  know,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  poisoning  horses  is  a 
great  sin,"  remarked  Mrs.  Shapleigh. 

Old  Tom  reformed  so  far  as  to  again  attend  the 
vestry  meetings,  and  to  lower  his  voice  while  he 
talked  horse  to  his  fellow-vestrymen. 

The  consideration  with  which  Skelton  and  Bui- 
strode  treated  the  poor  harassed  clergyman  sensibly 
improved  his  relations  with  the  congregation,  which 
did  not  like  him  any  better,  but  who  treated  him 
more  respectfully.  But  they  were  all  just  as  fond  of 
morality  and  shy  of  religion  as  ever,  except  Sylvia 
Shapleigh.  She  and  Conyers  occasionally  talked 
together  on  the  great  subject,  but  neither  could 
enlighten  the  other.  They  were  like  two  travellers 


198 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


meeting  in  the  desert  without  map  or  compass — they 
could  only  tell  of  their  loneliness,  their  struggles, 
their  terrible  ignorance  of  which  way  lay  the  road  to 
light. 

Bulstrode,  upon  whose  movements  Skelton  never 
attempted  to  place  any  restrictions,  went  over  to 
Newington  occasionally,  and  was  nearly  broken- 
hearted by  all  he  saw.  He  came  back,  and  his  mind 
dwelt  constantly  on  Mrs.  Blair  and  her  troubles.  He 
began  to  long  that  he  might  tell  her  not  to  despair- 
that  there  was  still  a  great  chance  in  store  for  her — 
that  one  day  she,  or  perhaps  her  children  after  her, 
might  have  a  fortune  that  would  make  them  the 
richest  people  in  the  county ;  for  Bulstrode  had 
spoken  truly  when  he  said  that  he  had  very  grave 
doubts  whether  Skelton  himself  could  unravel  the 
web  he  had  so  carefully  woven  about  Lewis  Pryor's 
identity.  And  his  object  in  so  doing — to  deprive  the 
Blairs  of  what  might  come  to  them,  by  an  extraor- 
dinary conjunction  of  circumstances — was  of  itself 
open  to  suspicion.  Bulstrode  knew  that  in  England 
the  Blairs'  expectations,  even  though  saddled  with 
uncertainties,  would  be  worth  something  in  ready 
money,  where  ready  money  was  plentiful ;  but  in 
this  new  country,  where  money  was  the  dearest  and 
scarcest  of  all  products,  he  doubted  if  a  penny  could 
be  realised  upon  even  a  very  great  fortune  in  per- 
spective. He  thought  over  these  things  until  his 
brain  was  nearly  addled. 

One  night  in  June,  while  Hilary  was  still  ill,  and 
the  Blairs  were  liable  to  be  dispossessed  at  any  mo- 
ment, Bulstrode  went  over  to  Newington.  It  had 
lately  stormed,  and  the  warm  night  air  was  full  of 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


199 


the  fragrance  of  the  summer  rain.  The  dripping 
trees  along  the  road  were  odorous,  and  the  wild 
honeysuckle  and  the  great  magnolia  blossoms  were 
lavish  of  perfume.  The  river  and  all  the  home- 
steads were  perfectly  still ;  and  the  only  sound,  as 
Bulstrode  walked  up  the  weedy  drive  to  the  Newing- 
ton  house,  was  the  occasionally  monotonous  cry  of 
a  night  bird  or  the  soft  flutter  of  bats'  wings  through 
the  darkness. 

Mrs.  Blair  was  sitting  in  the  dimly  lighted  draw- 
ing-room with  one  of  Scott's  novels  on  her  lap.  She 
heard  Bulstrode's  step  on  the  porch,  and  rose  to  meet 
him  as  he  entered  the  room.  She  looked  pale  and 
depressed. 

"Ah,  romance,  romance,"  said  Bulstrode,  picking 
up  the  book.  "You  dear,  sweet,  innocent-minded 
creatures  live  on  it." 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Blair,  smiling  a  little.  "  It 
helps  us  over  the  stony  part  of  the  road.  I  have 
been  with  my  boy  all  day,  and  I  found  I  wanted  a 
tonic  for  my  mind ;  so  I  took  up  this  book,  and  ac- 
tually forgot  my  poor  Hilary  for  a  few  moments." 

"  Is  the  boy  improving,  ma'am  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  He  cannot  yet  leave  his  bed. 
His  father  and  I  are  with  him  all  the  time,  one  or 
the  other.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Bulstrode,  I  never  re- 
alise what  an  admirable  man  my  husband  is  until  I 
see  him  with  his  children.  If  you  but  knew  how 
tender  and  interesting  and  even  fascinating  he  is  to 
them  !  And  if  only  Hilary — gets  well — "  Mrs. 
Blair's  voice  broke.  "  Ah,  Mr.  Bulstrode,  I  fear  so 
much — I  fear — he  will  never  be  well — although — I 
try—" 


2QO  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

Mrs.  Blair  burst  unexpectedly  into  tears.  This 
nearly  distracted  Bulstrode.  He  took  out  his  hand- 
kerchief and  fairly  blubbered,  saying  between  gasps : 

"  Now,  pray  don't,  my  dear  Mrs.  Blair — ray  sweet, 
sweet  creetur' — "  Bulstrode's  grief  was  inexpressi- 
bly ludicrous. 

But  after  a  moment  or  two  Mrs.  Blair  recovered 
herself  and  apologised  for  her  sudden  weakness. 

"  I  have  had  much  to  try  me,"  she  said,  "  and  then 
the  prospect  of  being  turned  out  of  this  place — " 

"  Have  you  made  any  arrangements  to  go  else- 
where ? "  asked  Bulstrode. 

Mrs.  Blair  shook  her  head.  "  My  husband  would 
not  ask  it  of  his  creditors,  but  it  would  be  to  his 
advantage  if  he  were  allowed  to  remain  at  Newing- 
ton.  He  has  really  done  wonderfully  well  here,  and 
has  made  crops  that  were  much  better  than  any  his 
father  ever  made  off  the  place.  It  has  all  gone,  of 
course,  on  the  Campdown  track — but  still  the  money 
was  made ;  and  now  that  my  husband  is  done  with 
the  turf  for  ever,  I  believe  in  a  few  years'  time  he 
could  be  on  his  feet  again. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  attached  to  this  place  ? "  con- 
tinued Bulstrode. 

"Yes,"  cried  Mrs.  Blair  with  tears  in  her  voice. 
"  I  don't  know  why  especially,  except  that  I  am  prone 
to  become  attached  to  places  and  people.  And,  re- 
member, I  have  lived  here  ever  since  I  began  to 
think  and  feel.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  troubles  I 
have  had  tie  me  to  it  as  much  as  the  joys,  and  they 
have  been  many,  Mr.  Bulstrode.  They  were  not  the 
griefs  you  read  about  in  books,  but  those  plain  every- 
day sorrows  that  come  to  women's  hearts." 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  2OI 

Mrs.  Blair  stopped  ;  she  had  uttered  no  complaint 
heretofore,  and  the  habit  of  forbearance  was  strong 
upon  her.  She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
The  clouds  had  melted  away  and  a  summer  moon 
shone  fitfully,  flooding  the  river  with  its  silver  light. 
She  was  recalled  by  hearing  her  name  uttered  by 
Bulstrode  in  a  curious  voice.  She  resumed  her  chair 
and  turned  her  delicate  profile  towards  Bulstrode. 

"  Mrs.  Blair,"  said  he  hesitatingly,  "  have  you 
never  speculated  upon  what  becomes  of  Skelton's 
fortune  from  his  wife  if  he  should  marry  again,  or  at 
his  death  ?  for  you  know,  of  course,  that  it  is  only 
his  until  one  of  those  things  happens." 

"  We  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  talk,  but,  natu- 
rally, we  feel  a  delicacy  at  making  any  enquiries 
about  it." 

''Delicacy  be  hanged!"  cried  Bulstrode,  rising. 
"  Do  you  know,  ma'am,  that  it's  quite  possible — quite 
probable — that  some  day  you  and  your  children  will 
have  all  that  money  ? " 

"  I  cannot  think  that,"  answered  Mrs.  Blair,  ris- 
ing, too,  and  supposing  that  Bulstrode  meant  that 
Skelton  might  leave  it  to  them.  "  Although  I  am  Mr. 
Skelton's  nearest  relative,  there  is  no  love  lost  be- 
tween us — and  my  husband  and  he  are  at  feud.  I 
am  sure  Mr.  Skelton  would  never  wish  us  to  benefit 
by  anything  he  had." 

"  But,"  cried  Bulstrode  excitedly,  "  he  can't  help 
it — he  can't  help  it !  Don't  you  suppose  he  would  if 
he  could  ? " 

Mrs.  Blair  turned  very  pale.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Bulstrode,  in  his  impressive  voice, 


202  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

"  I  mean  that  by  the  fondness  of  a  woman  Skelton 
became  possessed  of  a  great  fortune  ;  and  by  her  jeal- 
ousy it  is  only  his  until  his  death  or  marriage;  and 
by  her  folly  it  all  descends  to  his  heirs.  He  cannot 
control  one  shilling  of  his  wife's  fortune — it  goes  to 
his  heirs.  And  you — you — you  and  your  children  are 
Skelton's  heirs!" 

Mrs.  Blair  was  completely  dazed  by  what  she 
heard  and  by  Bulstrode's  vehemence.  His  agitation, 
too,  was  contagious.  She  felt  herself  trembling,  be- 
cause she  saw  Bulstrode's  tremor. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  stammered. 

"What  I  say,"  replied  Bulstrode,  grasping  her 
arm.  "  I've  known  it  ever  since  Mrs.  Skelton  died. 
Of  course,  it  wasn't  her  intention  that  it  should  be 
so ;  she  was  actuated  by  two  master  passions,  love 
and  hate.  She  meant  Skelton  to  have  the  property, 
and  that  her  own  relatives,  in  punishment  for  the 
stand  they  took  at  her  marriage,  should  suffer  for  it. 
She  had  the  will  made  soon  after  her  marriage,  when 
she  hoped  that  Skelton's  heirs  would  be  their  chil- 
dren. It  was  the  worst-made  will  ever  seen  in  Eng- 
land. In  her  last  illness  she  made  additions  to  it, 
that  only  complicated  matters  more.  It  was  such  a 
muddle  that  Skelton  was  forced  to  apply  to  the 
courts  to  construe  it,  with  a  result  that  infuriated 
him.  He  is  a  bond  slave  in  the  midst  of  all  that 
money.  He  has  his  choice  of  two  things,  one  of 
which  may  be  impossible ;  the  other  is,  to  hand  over 
to  you  and  yours  three  fourths  of  his  money — and 
he  must  do  it  if  he  marries  again,  and  his  executors 
must  do  it  if  he  dies.  Just  imagine  this  state  of 
things  upon  a  man  of  Skelton's  temperament !  Great 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


203 


God!  I  wonder  he  hasn't  gone  mad  thinking  over 
it!" 

Mrs.  Blair  sat  quite  silent  and  still.  Bulstrode 
began  to  march  about  the  room,  running  his  hand 
through  his  shaggy  hair  and  exclaiming  at  intervals, 
"  Great  Caesar !  "  "  Immortal  Jove !  "  "  Gadzooks !  " 
Then  turning  towards  her,  he  cried :  "  But  there  is 
another  factor  in  it  —  another  complication" — he 
came  close  to  Mrs.  Blair,  and  whispered : 

"  Lewis  Pryor." 

Mrs.  Blair  started,  and  a  rosy  blush  succeeded 
her  paleness. 

"You  know,  the  old  Greeks  had  a  word  for  such 
children  as  Lewis  Pryor.  They  called  them  '  the 
children  of  the  soul.'  Now,  the  fool  of  a  solicitor 
who  drew  Mrs.  Skelton's  will,  in  securing  the  rever- 
sion of  the  property  to  the  children  of  Richard  Skel- 
ton,  did  not  provide  at  all  against  any  children  that 
he  might  have  had  when  he  married  Mrs.  Skelton. 
Good  God !  madam,  did  you  ever  know  such  a  con- 
catenation of  follies  and  misunderstandings  and  mis- 
takes ?  Scarcely  a  single  design  of  Mrs.  Skelton's 
is  carried  out ;  and  either  you  must  get  the  property, 
or  Skelton  must  acknowledge  Lewis  Pryor.  But," 
continued  Bulstrode,  his  voice  rising  to  a  shout,  "the 
end  of  difficulties  is  not  yet.  Great  Jupiter !  all  the 
ingenuity  of  man  could  not  bring  about  such  strange 
complications  as  blind  Fate  would  have  it.  Skelton 
took  such  pains  to  make  Lewis  Pryor  out  to  be  the 
son  of  his  old  tutor  and  his  wife,  and  they  became 
so  fond  of  the  boy,  that  among  them  all  they  oblit- 
erated every  proof  that  Lewis  Pryor  was  anything 
but  Lewis  Pryor.  There  stands  the  testimony  of  the 


204 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


Pryors  in  their  wills  leaving  their  little  belongings 
to  their  '  beloved  son,  Lewis  ' — not  a  word  said  about 
adoption.  They  lived  in  terror  that  Skelton  would 
some  time  or  other  take  the  boy  away  from  them, 
and  they  meant  to  make  a  fight  for  him.  Skelton 
then  was  as  anxious  as  they  were  that  the  secret 
should  be  kept.  He  made  them  a  handsome  allow- 
ance, but  he  was  so  astute  about  it  that  not  even 
that  could  be  proved.  Never  man  so  overreached 
himself  as  Richard  Skelton.  The  Pryors  both  died 
when  Lewis  was  about  five  years  old.  Skelton  sent 
for  him — from  an  awakening  sense  of  duty,  I  fancy — 
and  immediately  conceived  such  a  passion  of  pater- 
nal love  as  you  never  saw  in  your  life,  and  could 
never  part  with  him  afterwards.  You  love  your  boy; 
Skelton  idolises  his." 

Bulstrode  had  stopped  his  agitated  walk  while 
telling  this,  but  he  began  it  again,  his  lumbering  fig- 
ure making  grotesque  shadows  on  the  wall.  Mrs. 
Blair  listened,  overwhelmed  as  much  by  Bulstrode's 
manner  as  by  the  strange  things  he  was  telling  her. 
Presently  he  came,  and,  sitting  down  by  the  table, 
brought  his  fist  down  so  hard  that  the  candles 
jumped. 

"  But  there  is  more — actually  more.  If  Skelton 
ever  tries  to  prove  that  Lewis  is  his  son,  mark  my 
words,  the  boy  will  fight  against  it — he  will  fight 
against  it.  I  can't  make  out  what  he  really  thinks 
now,  but  he  clings  so  hard  to  his  Pryor  parentage, 
he  speaks  of  it  so  often,  he  treasures  up  every  little 
thing  that  he  inherited  from  the  Pryors,  that  some- 
times I  fancy  he  has  doubts.  He  is  always  anxious 
to  disclaim  any  authority  Skelton  asserts  over  him. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  205 

The  Pryors  and  Skelton  in  the  beginning,  supposing 
I  knew  nothing  about  the  boy,  agreed  in  making  me 
the  boy's  guardian.  Skelton  knows  that  he  has  me 
under  his  thumb — and  he  has,  by  George !  How- 
ever, he  can't  kick  me  out  of  the  house,  no  matter 
how  much  he  would  like  to,  so  long  as  I  am  Lewis 
Pryor's  guardian.  But  if  I  were  called  upon  to-mor- 
row in  a  court  of  law  to  say  that  Lewis  is  Skelton's 
son,  I  would  have  no  better  proof  than  Skelton's 
word ;  and  the  Pryors  told  me  dozens  of  times  that 
the  boy  was  theirs.  Pryor  was  an  astute  fellow,  and, 
although  both  he  and  his  wife  knew  they  could  not 
hoodwink  me,  they  were  careful  never  to  admit  to 
me  that  the  boy  was  anything  but  theirs.  You  see, 
if  Skelton  had  tried  to  get  him  away  in  their  lifetime, 
he  couldn't  have  proved  anything  by  me."  Bui- 
strode  paused  for  breath  and  wiped  his  face. 

"  The  boy  has  eyes  like  Richard  Skelton's,"  said 
Mrs.  Blair,  after  a  pause. 

"  Exactly.  But,  although  he  is  the  same  type,  and 
one  would  use  the  same  terms  in  describing  Skelton 
and  Lewis,  they  are  not  personally  very  much  alike 
except  their  eyes.  Strange  to  say,  Lewis  is  not  un- 
like Mrs.  Pryor,  who  was  a  dark,  slight  woman.  She 
always  fancied  him  to  be  like  a  child  she  lost,  and 
that  was  one  reason  she  became  so  devoted  to  him. 
But  to  see  Skelton  and  Lewis  together  in  the  same 
house — haw  !  haw  ! " 

Bulstrode  broke  into  a  great,  nervous  laugh. 
"  Then  you'd  know  they  were  father  and  son.  To 
see  that  little  shaver  stand  up  straight  and  eye  the 
great  Mr.  Skelton  as  coolly  as  you  please — odd's 
my  life,  madam,  the  brat  is  a  gentleman,  if  I  ever 
14 


206  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

saw  one!  You  ought  to  see  the  positive  air  with 
which  he  disclaims  any  relationship  to  Skelton  when 
strangers  have  asked  him  about  it.  That,  too,  makes 
me  suspect  that  he  dreads  something  of  the  sort. 
It  would  be  more  natural  if  he  should  show  a  boyish 
desire  to  be  related  to  Skelton  and  to  share  his  con- 
sequence. He  has  a  few  books  of  Pryor's  and  a  few 
trinkets  of  Mrs.  Pryor's,  and  I  don't  believe  all  Skel- 
ton's  money  could  buy  those  trifling  things  from 
him.  But  this  haughty,  naturally  self-respecting 
spirit  of  the  boy  only  makes  Skelton  love  him  the 
more.  I  have  predicted  to  Skelton  that  the  boy  will 
hate  him  for  ever  if  any  disclosure  is  made  about  his 
birth.  And  Skelton  dreads  it,  too.  So  you  see, 
madam,  in  spite  of  all  he  can  do — and  he  will  do  all 
that  mortal  man  can  do — you  and  yours  may  yet  be 
rich  through  Skelton." 

Elizabeth  sat,  roused  out  of  her  sad  patience  into 
trembling  excitement.  Of  course,  it  was  far  off  and 
doubtful,  but  it  was  startling.  Bulstrode  had  not 
asked  her  not  to  mention  it  to  her  husband,  nor 
would  she  have  made  any  such  promise.  Presently 
Bulstrode  rose  to  go.  Elizabeth  realised,  without 
his  mentioning  it,  that  if  it  ever  came  to  Skelton's 
ears  what  Bulstrode  had  that  night  told,  Deerchase 
would  never  harbour  him  another  hour,  and  she 
knew  it  was  in  pity  for  her  griefs  that  he  had  told 
her  at  all.  She  tried  to  express  this  to  Bulstrode, 
and  he  comprehended  her. 

He  walked  back  to  Deerchase  oppressed  with  the 
reaction  that  follows  excitement.  Suddenly,  as  he 
trudged  along  the  white  and  sandy  road,  under  the 
pale  splendour  of  the  moon,  he  remembered  Skel- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


207 


ton's  words :  "  You  will  not  do  the  boy  any  harm 
until  your  heedless  tongue  begins  to  wag,  and  then 
in  pure  idleness  and  wantonness  you  will  tell  all  you 
know."  Yes,  Skelton  was  right,  as  usual.  He  had 
not  told  it  in  idleness  or  wantonness,  but  he  had 
told  it.  He  could  fancy  Lewis's  face  if  he  had  heard 
what  had  passed  in  the  Newington  drawing-room 
that  night — the  shame,  grief,  reproach,  indignation. 
Bulstrode  sighed,  and  went  heavily  upon  his  road 
home. 

Mrs.  Blair  remained  sitting  in  the  drawing-room 
for  some  hours  just  as  Bulstrode  had  left  her.  The 
candles  burned  out  and  the  moonlight  streamed 
through  the  open  windows  and  made  patches  on  the 
polished  floor.  A  servant  went  about  after  a  while, 
shutting  the  house  up,  when  Mrs.  Blair  rose  and 
went  to  her  own  room.  As  she  passed  Hilary's  door 
everything  was  still,  and  she  was  afraid  to  open  the 
door  for  fear  it  might  wake  him.  She  found  herself 
unable  to  go  to  bed,  though,  and  at  midnight  was  sit- 
ting at  her  window  looking  out  without  seeing  any- 
thing, although  the  moon  was  not  yet  gone. 

Presently  she  heard  Blair  come  softly  out  of  Hil- 
ary's room  and  go  down  stairs  into  his  own  den, 
which  was  called  by  courtesy  a  study,  but  which  was 
littered  up  with  all  the  impedimenta  of  a  country 
gentleman.  Sometimes  during  the  night  watches, 
when  the  boy  was  sleeping,  he  would  slip  down  there 
for  a  smoke.  Nothing  could  exceed  Blair's  tender- 
ness to  his  children,  and  when  they  were  ill  their 
exquisite  fondness  for  him  appeared  to  redouble. 

He  had  just  finished  his  first  cigar  when  the  door 
opened  and  Elizabeth  entered  with  a  candle  in  her 


2o8  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

hand.  She  had  on  a  white  dressing  wrapper,  and 
her  long  hair  was  plaited  down  her  back.  Blair 
knew  in  an  instant  from  her  face  that  something 
strange  had  happened. 

She  came  forward  and  seated  herself  so  that  her 
head  rested  on  his  shoulder.  Blair  at  once  laid  down 
the  cigar  he  had  just  lighted.  He  did  not  hesitate 
to  ask  her  to  sign  away  her  rights  in  everything  they 
jointly  possessed,  but  he  was  careful  to  treat  her 
with  every  mark  of  the  most  perfect  personal  respect. 

"  Is  Hilary  asleep  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Soundly.  He  won't  wake  up  until  morning. 
You  had  a  visitor.  I  heard  Bulstrode's  voice  down- 
stairs." 

"Yes,"  answered  Elizabeth. 

Blair  felt  her  begin  to  tremble,  and  asked  her 
what  was  the  matter. 

"Only  something  Mr.  Bulstrode  told  me,"  she 
answered,  and  then  rapidly  and  excitedly  poured  it 
all  out.  She  could  always  express  herself  with  re- 
markable clearness,  and  Blair  had  no  difficulty  in 
understanding  just  how  things  were. 

"  And,  although  it  will  probably  never  benefit 
us,"  said  Elizabeth  finally,  "  for  Richard  Skelton  is 
as  likely  to  live  as  we  are,  yet  it  may  some  day  bene- 
fit our  children." 

"  But  I  don't  see  why  it  shouldn't  benefit  us,"  said 
Blair  drily.  "  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  get  a  copy 
of  that  will,  and  somebody  can  be  found  who  will 
risk  something  upon  such  magnificent  chances.  I 
daresay  Skelton  himself  would  be  glad  to  compro- 
mise with  us  for  a  handsome  sum  if  we  would  con- 
vey all  our  interest  in  the  property  back  to  him." 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


209 


Elizabeth  listened,  startled  and  annoyed.  She 
had  felt  some  qualms  at  the  idea  that,  even  if  Lewis 
Pryor  should  make  a  successful  fight  for  his  sup- 
posed parentage,  her  children  should  inherit  money 
that  was  only  theirs  through  accident  and  bungling. 
But  there  was  nobody  else  with  any  better  right  to 
it,  for  the  late  Mrs.  Skelton  had  fully  determined  that 
her  own  family  should  not  have  it.  And  besides,  it 
would  be  after  Skelton's  death — for  she  did  not  for 
a  moment  suppose  that  he  would  marry.  But  this 
way  of  setting  up  an  immediate  claim  to  it  offended 
her.  Being  a  singularly  high-minded  woman,  she 
did  not  value  money  very  greatly,  and  had  many 
delicate  scruples  regarding  it. 

"  But — but — you  don't  mean  that  you  would  take 
any  steps — "  she  asked  hesitatingly. 

"Just  wait  and  see,"  answered  Blair  promptly. 
"  And  Skelton  may  marry,  remember.  I  think  he 
admires  Sylvia  Shapleigh  very  much ;  and  you  may 
depend  upon  it,  I  sha'n't  refuse  anything  that  is 
mine." 

Elizabeth  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  felt  a  little 
disgusted  with  him. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  as  high-minded  as  I 
thought  you,"  she  said  after  a  moment. 

Blair  withdrew  his  arm  from  around  her  with  dis- 
pleasure written  all  over  his  strong,  expressive  face. 
He  began  to  finger  his  cigar,  which  was  a  hint  that 
she  had  better  leave  him.  Usually  Elizabeth  never 
remained  a  moment  after  she  found  she  was  tres- 
passing, but  to-night  she  sat  quite  still.  A  quarrel 
between  two  extremely  refined,  courteous,  and  at- 
tached persons  is  none  the  less  bitter  because  each 


2io  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

one  is  scrupulously  polite.  Blair  said,  after  a  few 
moments: 

"  Your  remark  is  quite  uncalled  for,  and  let  me 
tell  you,  Elizabeth,  a  man  knows  much  more  about 
these  things  than  a  woman.  A  man  must  be  trusted 
to  manage  his  own  affairs ;  and  if  he  is  incapable, 
another  man  ought  to  be  appointed  his  conserva- 
tor." 

Blair  had  mismanaged  his  own  affairs  so  beau- 
tifully that  this  sentiment  was  peculiarly  absurd 
coming  from  him.  He  glanced  at  Elizabeth  and  saw 
something  like  a  half  smile  upon  her  face.  She  said 
nothing,  but  her  silence  was  eloquent.  Blair  wished 
then  for  the  thousandth  time  that  Elizabeth  would 
show  her  displeasure  as  other  women  did — with  tears 
and  unguarded  words  and  reproaches,  or  even  as 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  did. 

"I  believe,"  she  said,  after  a  long  and  painful 
pause,  "  that  if  the  dead  woman  had  her  choice  she 
would  be  very  willing  for  Lewis  Pryor  to  have  the 
money,  because  Richard  Skelton  loves  him  so,  and 
because  she  loved  Richard  Skelton  so.  But  I  am 
afraid — I  am  afraid — it  has  just  occurred  to  me — that 
she  would  detest  the  idea  of  our  having  it,  because 
Richard  Skelton  hates  us  so.  And  there  cannot  be 
any  blessing  attached  to  money  that  comes  in  that 
way." 

"  Damme  !  "  cried  Blair  rudely. 

Elizabeth  rose  at  once.  Like  him,  she  was  ex- 
tremely dainty  in  her  ideas  of  behaviour,  and  the 
only  sort  of  henpecking  she  ever  visited  upon  Blair 
was  the  strict  account  she  held  him  to  as  regarded 
his  manners  to  her,  which,  however,  Blair  was  quite 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  211 

ready  to  accord  usually.  Even  now  he  felt  imme- 
diate remorse,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said ;  "  but  it  seems  to  me, 
Elizabeth,  that  we  are  saying  very  odd  and  uncom- 
fortable things  to  each  other  to-night." 

Elizabeth  submitted  to  be  drawn  to  him,  and  even 
to  rest  her  head  again  upon  his  shoulder ;  but  the 
quarrel  between  husband  and  wife  had  to  be  fought 
out  as  much  as  if  they  were  a  thousand  miles  apart. 
Blair  tried  some  of  his  old  flattery  on  her. 

"You  know  I  could  not  forbear  any  triumph  over 
Skelton — and  you  know  why.  I  want  the  money, 
but  I  want  revenge,  too ;  and  revenge  is  a  much  more 
gentlemanly  vice  than  avarice,  as  vices  go.  How- 
ever, you  never  saw  a  man  in  your  life  who  was 
indifferent  to  money." 

"  Yes,  I  have — Mr.  Conyers." 

"  Pooh — a  parson  !  " 

"And  Lewis  Pryor.  Mr.  Bulstrode  says  he  be- 
lieves the  boy  will  actually  fight  against  being  made 
Richard  Skelton's  heir,  so  much  more  does  he  value 
respectable  parentage  than  money." 

"  Pooh — a  boy  !  " 

"And  I  assure  you,  that  many  things  might  make 
me  regret  we  have  that  money,  if  it  comes." 

"  Pshaw — a  woman  !  " 

"  It  may  be  that  only  parsons,  boys,  and  women 
are  indifferent  to  money ;  but  if  my  son  showed — as 
I  hope  he  would — the  same  jealous  solicitude  for  his 
honour  and  mine  that  Lewis  Pryor  does  for  his  and 
his  mother's,  I  should  indeed  be  proud  of  him. 
Fancy,"  she  said,  raising  herself  and  looking  at 
Blair  with  luminous  eyes,  "the  bribe  of  a  great 


212 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


fortune  being  offered  to  Hilary  if  he  would  cast 
shame  on  his  mother !  And  would  I  not  rather  see 
him  dead  before  my  eyes  than  yielding  ? " 

Blair  mumbled  something  about  not  being  paral- 
lel cases. 

"  Then  imagine  yourself — all  Richard  Skelton's 
fortune  yours " — Elizabeth  waved  her  hands  ex- 
pressively— "all — all,  if  you  will  only  agree  that 
your  mother  was  an  unworthy  woman." 

Blair  remained  silent.  Elizabeth  was  too  acute 
for  him  then. 

"Of  course,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "  I  respect 
the  boy  for  the  spirit  Bulstrode  says  he  has  shown, 
and  I  hope  he'll  stick  to  it.  I  hope  he'll  make  a  fight 
for  it  and  come  out  ahead,  and  prosper,  and  have  all 
the  money  that's  good  for  him.  Skelton  has  got  a 
very  handsome  estate  of  his  own  to  give  him ;  and 
he  may  be  master  of  Deerchase  yet." 

"And  our  little  Mary  may  be  mistress  of  Deer- 
chase,"  said  Elizabeth,  who  had  a  truly  feminine  pro- 
pensity for  concocting  marriages  for  her  children 
from  their  cradles. 

"  Never ! "  Blair  brought  his  fist  down  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair.  "She  shall  marry  respectably  or 
not  at  all ;  and  though  I  like  money,  my  daughter 
shall  never  marry  any  man  who  has  no  name  to  give 
her." 

"  Perhaps  they  may  run  away,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Blair  demurely,  at  which  they  both  laughed  a  little, 
and  Blair  kissed  his  wife.  But  there  was  still  battle 
between  them.  Mrs.  Blair  wanted  the  matter  to  rest ; 
Blair  wanted  to  agitate  it  immediately. 

"  Mr.  Bulstrode  meant  to  make  me  happy,"  she 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


213 


said  bitterly,  after  a  while ;  "  but  I  doubt  if  he  has. 
I  even  doubt,  if  that  money  comes  to  us,  whether  it 
may  not  do  us  more  harm  than  good." 

"  I  understand  quite  well  what  you  mean,"  cried 
Blair,  blazing  up.  "  You  think  I  will  go  back  to 
horse  racing,  and  gambling,  and  a  few  other  vices. 
That  is  the  confidence  you  have  in  my  word.  I  tell 
you,  Elizabeth,  a  man  can't  have  any  confidence  in 
himself  unless  somebody  else  has  some  confidence  in 
him;  and  a  man's  wife  can  make  a  scoundrel  of  him 
easier  than  anybody  in  the  world." 

"I  did  not  suspect  that  I  was  calculated  to  make 
a  scoundrel  of  a  man,"  answered  Elizabeth ;  and 
Blair  taking  out  his  watch  ostentatiously  and  pick- 
ing up  his  cigar  again,  she  rose  to  go.  Their  voices 
had  not  risen  beyond  the  most  ordinary  pitch,  yet 
the  first  serious  quarrel  of  their  married  life  had  come 
about.  Blair  relighted  her  candle  for  her,  and  held 
the  door  wide  open  until  she  had  reached  the  top  of 
the  stair.  He  was  very  polite  to  her,  but  he  was  more 
angry  with  her  than  he  supposed  he  ever  could  be. 
He  was  angry  with  her  for  the  little  she  said,  but 
more  angry  with  her  for  the  great  deal  she  implied  ; 
and  he  meant  to  have  some  money  on  his  expecta- 
tions, if  it  were  in  the  power  of  mortal  man. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

BLAIR  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  sent  im- 
mediately to  England  for  a  copy  of  Mrs.  Skelton's 
will.  But  in  those  days  it  was  a  matter  of  three 
months  or  more  to  get  a  thing  of  that  kind  attended 
to,  and  meanwhile  affairs  with  him  improved  greatly. 
Old  Tom  Shapleigh,  urged  thereto  by  Sylvia,  and  also 
by  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  who  declared  she  never  could 
tolerate  a  new  neighbour  at  Newington,  went  quietly 
to  work  and  bought  up  all  of  the  most  pressing 
claims  against  Blair.  He  knew  that  he  could  get  as 
good  interest  on  his  money  invested  in  Newington, 
under  Blair's  admirable  management,  as  anywhere 
else ;  and,  besides,  he  was  fond  of  the  Blairs,  and 
anxious  to  do  them  a  good  turn  for  the  very  bad  one 
of  selling  Alabaster  to  Blair.  So  Blair  suddenly 
found  himself  very  much  better  placed  than  he  ex- 
pected, and  with  an  excellent  chance,  if  he  lived  ten 
years,  of  paying  off  his  debts.  He  also  had  a  strange 
sense  of  relief  when  his  race  horses  were  sold,  at  the 
feeling  that  it  was  now  out  of  his  power  to  be  a 
turfite  any  longer.  It  had  always  been  a  nightmare 
as  well  as  a  vampire  to  him,  and  fortunately  it  was 
one  of  those  passions  which  have  a  body  to  them, 
and  can  therefore  be  destroyed,  at  least  temporarily. 
His  horses  brought  uncommonly  good  prices,  which 

("4) 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


215 


enabled  him  to  pay  some  of  the  small  debts  that 
harassed  him  most.  He  began  to  think,  with  a  sort 
of  savage  satisfaction,  that  what  Skelton  designed 
for  his  destruction  might  in  the  end  be  his  salvation. 
Hilary,  too,  began  to  improve  rapidly,  and  was  in 
six  weeks'  time  perfectly  recovered.  Mrs.  Blair  was 
amazed  at  the  turn  affairs  took  ;  but  there  was  yet 
an  unspoken,  still  antagonism  between  Blair  and 
herself  in  regard  to  his  course  about  the  Skelton 
money.  They  had  been  so  happy  together  for  so 
many  years  that  the  mere  habit  of  love  was  strong. 
The  children  saw  no  shadow  between  their  father 
and  mother,  but  nevertheless  it  was  there,  and  it 
pursued  them ;  it  sat  down  by  them,  and  walked 
with  them,  and  never  left  them.  Elizabeth,  seeing 
how  happy  they  might  have  been  without  this,  con- 
ceived a  tender,  womanish  superstition  against  the 
money  that  might  be  theirs.  She  had  a  faint,  quiver- 
ing doubt  that  much  money  might  be  Blair's  destruc- 
tion ;  and,  anyhow,  the  mere  hint  of  it  had  brought 
silent  dissension  between  them,  when  nothing  else 
ever  had.  Mrs.  Blair,  in  the  depths  of  her  soul, 
heartily  wished  Bulstrode  had  never  told  her  what 
he  did,  or  that  she  had  never  told  Blair.  She  had 
been  able  to  hold  up  her  head  proudly  before  Rich- 
ard Skelton  in  all  the  rivalry  between  him  and  her 
husband ;  but  now,  this  unseemly  looking  after  what 
might  never  be  theirs  and  was  never  intended  to  be 
theirs,  this  hankering  after  dead  men's  shoes,  made 
her  ashamed. 

What  Skelton  thought  or  felt  nobody  knew.  He 
expressed,  however,  to  Sylvia,  great  solicitude  in 
speaking  of  Hilary  Blair's  recovery,  and  sent  Bob 


2i6  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

Skinny  formally,  once  or  twice,  to  ask  how  the  boy 
was.  Sylvia  was  making  herself  felt  on  Skelton's 
heart  and  mind ;  but,  like  a  man,  he  put  off  enter- 
taining the  great  guest  as  long  as  he  could.  And 
there  was  his  engagement  to  the  world  to  do  some- 
thing extraordinary.  In  the  long  summer  days  he 
was  haunted  by  that  unfulfilled  promise.  He  was  so 
tormented  and  driven  by  it,  and  by  his  inability  to 
settle  down  steadily  to  his  book,  that  he  looked 
about  him  for  some  distraction.  He  found  it  only 
too  often,  he  began  to  think,  in  Sylvia  Shapleigh's 
soft  eyes  and  charming  talk. 

Skelton  was  not  averse  to  occasional  hospitalities 
on  a  grand  scale,  and  one  day  it  occurred  to  him  that 
he  would  give  a  great  ball  as  a  return  for  the  invita- 
tions he  had  received. 

On  mentioning  this  embryonic  scheme  to  Sylvia, 
that  young  woman  received  it  with  enthusiasm,  and 
even  slyly  put  Lewis  Pryor  up  to  reminding  Skelton 
of  it.  Lewis,  too,  was  immensely  taken  with  the  no- 
tion, and  when  Skelton  found  himself  the  victim  of 
two  such  conspirators,  he  yielded  gracefully  enough. 
He  declared  that  he  would  send  for  a  man  from  Bal- 
timore who  knew  all  about  balls,  that  he  might  not 
be  bothered  with  it,  and  Sylvia  forcibly  encouraged 
him  in  everything  calculated  to  make  the  ball  a  suc- 
cess. The  man  was  sent  for  and  plans  were  made, 
upon  which  Sylvia's  opinion  was  asked — to  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh's delight  and  consternation  and  to  old  Tom's 
secret  amusement. 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,  the  county  will  say  at  once  that 
Sylvia  is  engaged  to  Richard  Skelton,  and  then  what 
shall  we  do  ? " 


CHILDREN    OF   DESTINY. 


217 


"  Do,  ma'am  ?  Do  as  the  French  do  in  a  gale  of 
wind." 

"  What  is  that,  Mr.  Shapleigh  ?  " 

"The  best  they  can." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  why  will  you  say  such  sense- 
less things  ?  Of  course,  there's  nothing  for  us  to  do 
— nothing ;  and,  although  Richard  Skelton  is  the 
greatest  match  in  the  county,  even  if  he  does  have 
to  give  up  his  wife's  money,  yet  there  are  drawbacks 
to  him.  You  told  me  yourself  he  didn't  believe  in 
the  devil." 

"Well,  he  will  if  he  ever  gets  married,"  responded 
old  Tom,  with  an  enormous  wink. 

The  giving  of  a  ball  such  as  Skelton  designed 
was  in  those  days  an  undertaking  little  short  of  a 
crusade  in  the  Middle  Ages.  A  sailing  vessel  had  to 
be  sent  to  Baltimore  for  the  supper,  musicians,  deco- 
rations, and  everything  the  plantation  did  not  sup- 
ply ;  and  it  might  return  in  one  week,  and  it  might 
return  in  two  weeks,  and  it  might  never  return  at 
all.  Sylvia  Shapleigh  hypocritically  made  light  of 
these  difficulties,  and  handsome  cards  were  sent  out 
to  the  whole  county,  including  the  Blairs.  By  some 
sort  of  hocus-pocus,  Sylvia  and  Lewis  obtained  the 
privilege  of  addressing  the  invitations,  so  fearful 
were  they  of  leaving  Skelton  a  loophole  of  escape. 
It  was  done  one  June  morning  in  the  summerhouse 
on  the  bridge — Skelton  sitting  back  smiling,  while 
Sylvia  and  Lewis  alternately  conspired  and  squab- 
bled. Skelton  had  a  way  of  looking  at  Sylvia  that 
always  agitated  her,  although  she  thought  she  gave 
no  sign  of  it.  She  had  by  this  time  acknowledged 
to  herself  that  there  were  only  two  places  in  the 


2i8  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

world  for  her — the  one  where  Skelton  was,  and  the 
other  where  he  was  not.  She  had  not,  with  all  her 
native  acuteness,  the  slightest  idea  what  Skelton  felt 
for  her.  True,  he  had  a  manner  of  paying  her  small 
attentions  and  compliments,  insignificant  in  them- 
selves, but  which  he  invested  with  a  deep  and  peculiar 
meaning.  On  this  very  morning,  as  she  and  Lewis 
chattered,  Skelton  sat  looking  at  her  with  an  ex- 
pression of  enjoyment,  as  if  her  mere  presence  and 
talk  gave  him  exquisite  pleasure.  It  did  give  him 
pleasure  to  see  how  much  he  dominated  her  ;  it  was 
a  royal  sort  of  overbearing,  a  refined  and  subtle 
tyranny,  that  gratified  his  secret  inordinate  pride. 

Sylvia  confided  in  him  that  she  was  to  have  a  new 
white-lutestring  gown,  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh  had  or- 
dered a  turban  with  a  bird  of  paradise  on  it  for  the 
occasion.  Nothing  could  exceed  Sylvia's  interest 
and  delight,  except  Lewis's. 

Bulstrode  locked  and  barred  himself  in  his  room 
when  Bridges,  the  functionary  who  was  to  arrange 
the  ball,  arrived  from  Baltimore.  Skelton  took  ref- 
uge in  the  library,  which  was  the  one  spot  in  the 
house  upon  which  Bridges  dare  not  lay  his  sacrile- 
gious hands.  But  even  the  fastidious  and  scholarly 
Skelton  could  not  wholly  escape  the  domestic  hulla- 
baloo of  a  ball  in  the  country.  Lewis  Pryor,  at  first 
delighted,  soon  found  that  if  he  showed  his  nose  out- 
side of  the  library  he  was  pounced  upon  by  Bridges — 
a  saturnine-looking  person,  who  had  exchanged  the 
calling  of  an  undertaker  for  that  of  a  caterer — and 
sent  on  an  errand  of  some  sort.  Lewis,  who  was  not 
used  to  this  sort  of  thing,  would  have  promptly  re- 
sented it,  except  that  it  was  for  the  great,  the  grand, 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  219 

the  wonderful  ball.  Why  he  should  be  so  anxious 
about  the  ball,  he  did  not  know ;  there  was  nobody 
to  take  any  notice  of  him ;  but  still,  he  wanted  it, 
and  Sylvia  had  promised  to  dance  the  first  quadrille 
with  him.  This  invitation  was  given  far  in  advance, 
with  a  view  of  out-generalling  Skelton. 

Bob  Skinny's  disgust  was  extreme.  The  idea  that 
he  was  to  be  superseded  by  a  person  of  such  low  ori- 
gin and  inferior  talents  as  Bridges  was  exasperating 
to  the  last  degree. 

"  Dat  ar  owdacious  Bridges  man,"  he  complained 
to  Lewis,  "  he  think  he  know  ev'ything.  He  come 
a-countin'  my  spoons  an'  forks,  an'  he  say,  '  How 
many  spoons  an'  forks  has  you  got?'  An'  I  say, 
'  Millions  on  'em — millions  on  'em  ;  de  Skeltons  allers 
had  more'n  anybody  in  de  worl'.  I  nuvver  count  all 
on  'em,  myse'f.'  He  ain'  nuvver  been  to  furrin 
parts;  an'  when  I  ax  him,  jist  to  discomfuse  him,  ef 
he  couldn'  play  on  de  fluke  er  nuttin',  he  say  he  ain' 
got  no  time  fer  sich  conjurements.  I  tole  him,  maybe 
he  so  us'  ter  settin'  up  wid  dade  folks  an'  undertakin' 
dat  he  dunno  nuttin'  'bout  a  party  ;  an'  he  went  an' 
tole  Mr.  Skelton.  But  Mr.  Skelton,  he  shet  him  up. 
He  say,  'Well,  Bridges,  I  daresay  you'll  have  to  put 
up  wid  Bob  Skinny.  De  wuffless  rascal  done  had  he 
way  fur  so  long  dat  nobody  now  kin  hardly  confla- 
grate him.'  So  now,  sence  de  Bridges  man  know  my 
corndition,  I  jes'  walks  out  in  de  g'yardin,  a-playin' 
my  fluke,  an'  when  he  sen'  fur  me,  I  tell  him  ter  go 
long — I  doan'  do  no  wuk  dese  days ;  'tain't  none  o' 
my  ball — 'tis  his'n — an'  ter  be  sho'  an'  doan'  make 
no  mistake  dat  it  is  a  funeral." 

As  this  was  literally  true,  war  to  the  knife  was 


220  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

inaugurated  between  Bridges  and  Bob  Skinny.  Bob 
consoled  himself,  though,  by  promising  that,  when 
the  musicians  arrived,  "I  gwi'  jine  'em,  an'  take  my 
place  'longside  de  hade  man,  an'  gwi'  show  'em  how 
I  play  de  fluke  fo'  de  Duke  o'  Wellingcome,  an'  de 
Prince  Rejump,  and  Napoleon  Bonyparte,  an'  all  dem 
high-flyers  dat  wuz  allus  arter  Mr.  Skelton  ter  sell 
me  ter  'em  when  we  wuz  'broad." 

Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  in  a  state  of  much  agitation, 
first,  for  fear  the  bird  of  paradise  wouldn't  come, 
and  then  for  fear  it  wouldn't  be  becoming.  Nor 
was  Sylvia's  mind  quite  easy  until  the  new  white- 
lutestring  ball  dress  was  an  accomplished  fact. 

And  at  Newington,  too,  was  much  concern.  An 
invitation  had  been  sent  to  the  Blairs,  of  course,  and 
as  Hilary  was  now  on  the  highroad  to  recovery,  there 
was  no  reasonable  excuse  for  the  Blairs  not  going. 
According  to  the  hospitable  customs  of  the  age,  to 
decline  to  go  to  a  certain  house  was  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  most  unqualified  enmity.  The  resources 
of  the  people  were  so  few,  that  to  refuse  an  invita- 
tion to  a  festivity  could  only  proceed  from  the  most 
deadly  ill-will.  People  who  avowedly  disliked  each 
other  yet  kept  up  a  visiting  acquaintance,  for,  as 
they  were  planted  by  each  other  in  perpetuity,  they 
were  forced  to  be  wary  in  their  enmities. 

Blair  and  his  wife  discussed  it  amicably ;  they 
were  more  conciliatory  and  forbearing,  now  that 
there  was  an  inharmonious  chord  between  them, 
than  before,  when  they  had  had  their  little  differ- 
ences, secure  in  their  perfect  understanding  of  each 
other.  Blair  promptly  decided  that  they  must  go, 
else  it  would  appear  as  if  he  were  still  unreasonably 


CMILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  22I 

sore  over  his  defeat.  Mrs.  Blair  acquiesced  in  this. 
She  could  not,  like  Sylvia  Shapleigh,  have  a  new  ball 
gown,  but  her  white-silk  wedding  dress,  that  cher- 
ished gown,  bought  for  her  to  be  married  to  Skelton 
in,  and  in  which  she  was  actually  married  to  Blair, 
was  turned  and  furbished  up  for  the  occasion.  Mrs. 
Blair  felt  the  exquisite  absurdity  of  this,  and  could 
not  forbear  smiling  when  she  was  engaged  in  her  work. 

The  night  of  the  ball  arrived — a  July  night,  cool 
for  the  season.  By  seven  o'clock  the  roads  leading 
to  Deerchase  were  full  of  great,  old-fashioned  coaches, 
gigs,  stanhopes,  and  chaises,  bringing  the  county  gen- 
try to  the  grand  and  much-talked-of  ball.  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh, whose  remains  of  beauty  were  not  inconsider- 
able, had  begun  making  her  toilet  at  three  o'clock  in 
the  day,  and  was  in  full  regalia  at  six.  She  had  on  a 
superb  crimson  satin  gown,  and  the  bird  of  paradise 
nodded  majestically  on  her  head,  while  she  wore  so 
many  necklaces  around  her  neck  that  she  looked 
like  a  Christmas  turkey.  Old  Tom  was  out  in  his 
best  full  dress,  of  swallow-tailed  blue  coat  and  brass 
buttons,  with  a  fine  lawn  tie  to  muffle  up  his  throat, 
after  the  fashion,  and  thread  cambric  ruffles  rushing 
out  of  his  yellow-satin  waistcoat.  Sylvia  had  resisted 
her  mother's  entreaties  to  wear  a  sash,  to  wear  an- 
other necklace,  to  wear  a  wreath  of  artificial  flowers, 
and  various  other  adornments,  and  by  the  charming 
simplicity  of  her  dress  was  even  more  successful 
than  usual  in  persuading  the  world  that  she  was 
handsome. 

At  Deerchase,  the  house  was  lighted  with  wax 
candles  as  soon  as  it  was  dark.  The  grounds  were 
illuminated  with  Chinese  lanterns,  a  luxury  never 
15 


222 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


before  witnessed  in  those  parts ;  there  was  to  be  a 
constant  exhibition  of  fireworks  on  the  river,  and 
a  band  of  musicians  played  in  the  grounds,  and 
another  band  in  the  great  hall,  which  was  cleared 
for  dancing.  A  ball  upon  a  plantation  was  always 
as  much  enjoyed  by  the  negroes  as  the  white  people, 
and  every  negro  at  Deerchase  was  out  in  his  or  her 
Sunday-go-to-meeting  clothes,  some  to  help  in  the 
house,  some  at  the  stables  to  take  care  of  the  car- 
riages and  horses,  and  others  who  merely  enjoyed 
looking  on  with  intense  though  regulated  delight. 
Bob  Skinny  was  simply  immense,  and  fairly  outshone 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  in  the  number  and  variety  of  his 
rings,  chains,  and  breastpins.  He  stood  on  the 
square  portico  that  faced  the  drive,  with  his  arms 
magnificently  folded,  his  "  fluke  "  under  his  arm,  and 
occasionally,  with  an  air  of  tremendous  solemnity, 
he  consulted  a  huge  silver  watch  which  didn't  run, 
that  Skelton  had  given  him.  Bob  arrogated  to  him- 
self the  honour  of  receiving  the  guests  as  they 
alighted,  while  Skelton  occupied  a  comparatively 
unimportant  position  in  the  hall.  Bulstrode  was 
prowling  about,  completely  subdued  by  his  evening 
coat  and  a  pair  of  large  white  kid  gloves.  Lewis 
Pryor,  full  of  delighted  excitement,  was  surveying 
his  handsome  boyish  figure  in  the  glass  over  the  hall 
chimney-piece,  as  Skelton  descended  the  stairs,  put- 
ting on  his  gloves. 

"  How  do  you  like  yourself  ?  "  he  called  out. 

Lewis  blushed  furiously  and  laughed. 

Meanwhile  Bob  Skinny  and  the  "  hade  man  "  of 
the  musicians  were  having  a  lively  verbal  scrimmage 
in  the  porch. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


223 


"  Here  you  is  !  "  remarked  Bob,  with  an  air  of  lofty 
patronage,  as  the  leader  of  the  band,  a  red-faced 
German,  accompanied  by  his  satellites,  appeared  on 
the  porch  with  their  instruments.  "  Now,  I  gwi' 
show  you  how  ter  play  de  fluke,  an'  I  gwi'  play 
wid  you,  arter  I  done  git  th'u  wid  receivin'  de 
cump'ny.  I  kin  play  de  fluke  better'n  anybody 
you  ever  see,  but  I  ain'  proud ;  I  doan'  min'  playin' 
wid  you." 

"You  holt  your  tongue,"  calmly  remarked  the 
German.  "I  got  no  dime  der  drifle." 

"Look  a-here,"  answered  Bob  Skinny  severely, 
"doan'  you  go  fer  to  wex  me;  doan'  you  wex  nor 
aggrawate  me.  I  done  been  ter  Germany,  and  'tain't 
nobody  d'yar  'cept  po'  white  trash.  Yous  de  hade 
man  o'  dem  fiddlers,  an'  /  is  de  hade  man  o'  Mr. 
Richard  Skelton,  dat's  got  mo'  Ian'  an'  niggers  en 
all  de  wuffless  Germans  put  toge'rr."  Bob's  remarks 
were  cut  short  untimely  by  Skelton's  appearing  in  the 
porch,  when  he  became  as  mute  as  an  oyster.  Mean- 
while the  musicians  had  carried  their  instruments  in, 
and  began  tuning  up.  Bob,  however,  could  not  re- 
frain from  tuning  and  blowing  on  his  "  fluke  "  at  the 
most  critical  time,  when  his  enemy,  the  German,  was 
trying  to  give  the  pitch. 

In  a  very  little  while  the  carriages  began  rolling 
up  to  the  door,  in  the  soft  purple  twilight  of  July. 
The  Blairs  and  the  Shapleighs  were  among  the  first 
to  arrive.  Sylvia  was  really  pretty  that  night,  and 
the  excitement  of  the  music  and  the  Chinese  lanterns 
and  the  fireworks  that  were  being  set  off  upon  the 
river,  which  was  all  black  and  gold  with  the  fire 
and  darkness,  was  not  lost  upon  her.  Never  had 


224 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


she  seen  such  a  ball ;  it  was  worth  a  dozen  .trips  to 
the  Springs. 

Mrs.  Blair,  too,  was  in  great  form,  and  her  turned 
wedding-gown  set  so  gracefully  upon  her  that  she 
looked  to  be  one  of  the  best-dressed  women  in  the 
room.  Blair  put  on  all  his  most  charming  ways,  and 
honey-fuggled  Mrs.  Shapleigh  and  several  other 
ladies  of  her  age  most  audaciously.  The  women  all 
smiled  on  him,  and  Elizabeth  suffered  the  most 
ridiculous  pangs  of  jealousy  that  could  be  imagined. 
But  she  was  not  quite  like  her  old  self ;  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  future  were  always  before  her ;  her 
mind  was  too  often  engaged  in  picturing  that  dim 
future  when  she  and  Blair  and  Skelton  would  be 
dust  and  ashes,  and  her  children  might  be  leading  a 
strange,  brilliant,  dazzling  existence,  which  would  be 
immeasurably  removed  from  any  life  that  she  had 
ever  known.  And  that  strong  but  impalpable 
estrangement  between  Blair  and  herself — she  was 
ashamed  and  humiliated  when  she  thought  of  his  in- 
vestigation and  prying  and  peering  into  Skelton's 
affairs;  and  suppose,  after  all,  Skelton  should  find  a 
way  out  of  it,  and  then  they  would  get  no  fortune  at 
all ;  and  what  a  mortifying  position  would  be  theirs  ! 
for  the  whole  county  must  know  it — the  whole 
county  knew  everything. 

There  was  dancing  in  the  main  hall  and  cards  in 
the  library,  and  the  lofty  and  beautiful  drawing- 
rooms  were  for  lookers-on.  Skelton,  who  when  he 
greeted  her  had  pressed  Sylvia's  hand  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  the  blood  mount  in  her  smooth  cheek, 
asked  if  she  was  engaged  for  the  first  dance. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Sylvia.     "  I  have  been  engaged 


THERE   WAS   DANCING   IN  THE   MAIN    HALL,    AND   THE  DRAWING- 
ROOMS    WERE    FOR    LOOKERS-ON.—  Page  224 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


225 


for  it  for  three  weeks — "  Skelton  scowled ;  perhaps 
Sylvia  was  not  as  much  under  his  spell  as  he  fancied, 
but  he  smiled  when  Sylvia  continued — "  to  Lewis 
Pryor." 

"  The  little  scamp  has  circumvented  me,  I  see," 
he  remarked,  and  did  not  seem  displeased  at  the 
idea. 

Lewis  soon  sidled  up  to  Sylvia,  proud  and  de- 
lighted at  her  notice.  But  it  was  all  the  notice  he 
had,  except  from  Mr.  Conyers,  who  patted  him  on  the 
head,  and  a  smile  from  Mrs.  Blair.  The  clergyman 
had  come  in  response  to  a  personal  note  as  well  as 
a  card  from  Skelton,  and  walked  about  sadly,  think- 
ing on  the  vast  and  sorrowful  spectacle  of  human 
nature  even  in  the  presence  of  so  much  fleeting  joy. 
He  had  not  been  in  the  house  an  hour,  though,  be- 
fore he  came  up  to  say  good-night.  There  was  not 
only  much  card  playing  going  on  in  the  library,  but 
considerable  betting,  which  was  the  fashion  in  those 
days,  and  to  that  Conyers  was  unalterably  opposed. 

"  Mr.  Skelton,"  said  he,  coming  up  to  him,  "  I 
must  say  good-night." 

"  Why  so  early  ? "  asked  Skelton  graciously. 
"  Since  you  have  done  me  the  honour  of  coming, 
why  not  do  me  the  pleasure  of  staying  ?  " 

"Because,"  said  Conyers,  who  spoke  the  truth 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  "  it  is  against  my  con- 
science to  stay  where  betting  is  going  on.  Forgive 
me,  if  I  apparently  commit  a  breach  of  hospitality, 
but  consider,  Mr.  Skelton,  you  will  one  day  be  held 
accountable  for  the  iniquity  that  is  now  taking  place 
under  your  roof." 

"  I  accept  the  responsibility,"  answered  Skelton, 


226  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

with  unabated  politeness,  "and  I  regret  your  de- 
cision. You  are  always  welcome  at  Deerchase,  Mr. 
Conyers,  and  you  have  the  most  perfect  liberty  of 
expressing  your  opinions." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  poor  Conyers,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes.  "  If  everybody  was  as  tolerant  as  you,  my 
ministry  would  be  easier  than  it  is." 

As  Conyers  went  one  way,  Skelton  went  off  an- 
other, thinking  to  himself,  "Was  ever  a  man  so 
openly  defied  as  I  ?"  True  it  was  he  could  be  openly 
defied,  and  everybody  had  full  liberty,  until  Skelton's 
own  orbit  was  crossed :  then  there  was  no  liberty. 

Old  Tom  Shapleigh  swung,  like  a  pendulum,  be- 
tween cards  and  dancing.  He  danced  with  all  the 
vigor  of  colonial  days,  and  his  small,  high-bred  feet, 
cased  in  white-silk  stockings  and  low  shoes,  with 
silver  buckles,  twinkled  like  a  ballet  dancer's  as  he 
cut  the  pigeon  wing.  Mrs.  Blair,  who  danced  se- 
dately and  gracefully,  was  his  partner.  Bob  Skinny, 
his  head  thrown  back  and  wearing  an  expression  of 
ecstatic  delight,  watched  the  dancers  from  a  corner, 
occasionally  waving  his  "  fluke  "  to  mark  the  time. 
However,  by  some  occult  means  he  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  champagne  punch,  and  when  Skel- 
ton's back  was  turned,  Bob  proceeded  to  cut  the 
pigeon  wing  too,  and  to  back-step  and  double-shuffle 
with  the  most  surprising  agility.  In  the  midst  of 
this  performance,  though,  a  hint  of  Skelton's  ap- 
proach being  given,  Bob  instantly  assumed  the  most 
rigid  and  dignified  pose  imaginable. 

Lewis,  after  dancing  once  with  Sylvia  and  once 
with  Mrs.  Blair,  who  spoke  to  him  kindly,  wandered 
about,  lonely  enough.  The  people  did  not  relax  in 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


227 


the  least  their  aloofness  towards  him.  He  felt  inex- 
pressibly sad  and  forlorn,  and  at  this  ball,  too, 
which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  might  never  have  been 
given  but  for  him.  But  the  beauty  and  splendour  of 
the  scene  dazzled  him.  He  could  not  tear  himself 
away. 

Something  of  the  same  spell  was  upon  Bulstrode. 
He  knew  little  and  cared  less  for  social  life ;  he  was 
one  of  those  unfortunates  who  have  but  one  single, 
solitary  source  of  enjoyment — the  purely  intellectual ; 
but  the  lights,  the  music,  the  gaiety,  the  festal  air, 
had  its  effect  even  on  his  sluggish  temperament. 
He  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room,  his  bulky, 
awkward  figure  filling  up  a  great  chair,  and  Lewis 
came  and  leaned  silently  upon  the  back  of  it.  In 
some  way,  master  and  pupil  felt  strange  to  the  rest 
of  the  world  that  night,  and  drawn  together. 

"  Mr.  Bulstrode/'  said  Lewis  presently,  "  I  always 
feel  alone  in  a  crowd.  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  boy,"  answered  Bulstrode,  glancing  about 
him  with  an  odd  look  of  dejection.  "  And  in  a  crowd 
of  merry-makers  my  old  heart  grows  chill  with  lone- 
liness." 

"  It  is  much  worse  to  be  lonely  when  you  are 
young,"  Lewis  moralised.  "  But  there  is  Miss  Sylvia 
Shapleigh.  I  wonder  if  she  will  come  up  and  talk 
to  us  ? " 

Sylvia  did  come  up  and  speak  to  them.  There 
was  a  new  brilliancy  in  her  smile,  and  a  deep  and 
eloquent  flush  upon  her  cheek.  Bulstrode  felt 
compelled  to  pay  her  one  of  his  awkward  compli- 
ments. 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  "to-night  you 


228  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

look  like  one  of  those  fair  Greek  girls  of  old,  who 
lived  but  to  smile  and  to  dance  and  to  love." 

Sylvia's  colour  deepened ;  she  stood  quite  still, 
gazing  at  Bulstrode  as  if  he  had  uttered  a  prophecy; 
but  then  Lewis,  suddenly  seeing  people  going  out 
of  the  bay  windows  on  the  lawn,  cried  out  ex- 
citedly: "Now  the  finest  part  of  the  fireworks  is  go- 
ing off  !  Come  along"  And,  seizing  her  hand,  they 
went  out  on  the  smooth-shaven  lawn  as  far  as  the 
river. 

In  spite  of  the  coloured  lights,  it  was  dim,  as 
there  was  no  moon.  The  house,  with  its  great  wings, 
was  so  illuminated,  that  it  looked  enormously  large. 
Afar  off  came  the  strains  of  music,  while  in  the  half 
darkness  figures  moved  about  like  ghosts.  Lewis 
and  Sylvia,  standing  hand  in  hand,  watched  the  great 
golden  wheels  that  rose  from  a  boat  in  the  river 
magnificently  lighting  up  the  blue-black  sky,  and  re- 
flected in  the  blue-black  water  as  they  burst  in  a 
shower  of  sparkles.  How  good,  in  those  days,  were 
beautiful  things  to  eyes  unjaded,  to  minds  prepared 
to  marvel,  to  tastes  so  simple  that  almost  anything 
could  inspire  wonder  and  delight ! 

Sylvia  had  no  wrap  around  her  shoulders,  and 
after  a  while,  as  she  and  Lewis  watched  the  fire- 
works, she  felt  a  shawl  gently  placed  about  her.  She 
realised,  without  turning  her  head,  that  the  hand 
was  Skelton's.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  stood  with 
them.  They  were  separated  from  the  house  by  great 
clumps  of  crape  myrtle,  then  in  its  first  pink  glory. 
Some  invisible  bond  seemed  to  unite  all  three.  Skel- 
ton  felt  with  the  keenest  delight  the  delicious  emo- 
tions of  youth — he  was  too  true  a  philosopher  not  to 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 


229 


rejoice  that  he  could  still  feel — and  he  had  always 
feared  and  dreaded  that  chilling  of  his  sensibilities 
which  is  the  beginning  of  old  age.  How  bewitching 
was  Sylvia  Shapleigh  to  him  then,  and  if  ever  they 
should  be  married  how  kind  she  would  be  to  Lewis ! 
when  suddenly  came  a  piercing  sense  of  chagrin  and 
chafing  rebellion.  He  was  bound  by  a  chain.  All 
coercion  was  abnormally  hateful  to  him ;  and,  as 
Bulstrode  had  said,  the  wonder  was  that  he  had  not 
gone  mad  in  thinking  over  how  he  had  been  bound 
by  the  act  of  a  dead  woman. 

Sylvia  felt  instinctively  a  change  in  him  when  he 
spoke.  The  fireworks  were  then  over,  and  they 
went  back  to  the  house,  where  the  dancers'  feet  still 
beat  monotonously  and  the  music  throbbed.  They 
entered  through  the  library  windows,  and  Sylvia  ad- 
mired, as  she  always  did,  the  noble  and  imposing 
array  of  books. 

"  Let  them  alone,"  said  Skelton,  with  his  rare 
smile  that  always  had  something  melancholy  in  it. 
"  See  what  an  old  fossil  it  has  made  of  me  ! " 

Sylvia  smiled  at  him  archly,  and  said  :  "  Yes,  an 
old  fossil,  indeed  !  But  then,  when  you  have  written 
your  great  book,  you  will  be  among  the  immortals. 
You  will  never  grow  old  or  die." 

The  smile  died  away  quickly  from  Skelton's  face. 
That  book  was  another  bond  upon  him — that  unful- 
filled promise  to  the  world  to  produce  something  ex- 
traordinary. Nobody  but  Skelton  knew  the  misery 
that  unwritten  book  had  cost  him.  It  had  shadowed 
his  whole  life. 

Lewis  Pryor  had  begun  to  be  sleepy  by  that  time, 
and  after  supper  had  been  served  he  slipped  back 


230 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


into  the  library,  to  which  the  card  players  had  not 
yet  returned,  and  curled  up  on  a  leather  sofa  in  the 
embrasure  of  a  window,  where  he  could  see  the  river 
and  listen  to  the  music.  He  pulled  the  damask  cur- 
tains around  him,  and  lay  there  in  a  sort  of  tranquil, 
happy  dream.  How  far  away  was  the  music,  and 
how  odd  looked  the  negroes,  peering  in  at  the  win- 
dows, with  their  great  white  eyeballs !  and  before 
Lewis  knew  it  he  was  sound  asleep,  with  only  a  part 
of  his  small,  glossy-black  head  showing  beyond  the 
curtain. 

Bulstrode,  as  usual,  was  attentive  to  the  decan- 
ters. He  hated  cards,  and  after  he  had  played  a 
few  games  of.  loo  in  the  early  part  of  the  evening, 
and  had  lost  some  money,  he  had  had  enough  of  it. 
He  wandered  aimlessly  from  one  room  to  another. 
It  was  all  excessively  pretty  to  him,  but  childish. 
His  eyes  followed  Mrs.  Blair,  and  he  began  to  specu- 
late, as  he  lounged  about,  his  hands  in  the  pockets 
of  his  tight  black  trousers,  what  would  be  the  result 
if  the  Blairs  should  get  all  of  Skelton's  wife's  money. 

"  But  I  sha'n't  be  here  to  see  it,"  he  thought  rather 
cheerfully,  "  for  Skelton  will  outlast  this  old  car- 
cass." Then  he  began  to  think,  with  the  sardonic 
amusement  that  always  inspired  him  when  his  mind 
was  on  that  particular  subject,  how  the  bare  possi- 
bility must  infuriate  Skelton  ;  and,  after  all,  it  would 
be  better  to  let  Lewis  alone,  and  give  him  Deerchase 
and  all  of  Skelton's  own  money — that  would  be 
quite  as  much  as  would  be  good  for  him.  On  the 
whole,  he  was  glad  he  had  told  Mrs.  Blair,  and  he 
hoped  the  dear  soul  would  live  to  enjoy  all  that 
would  be  hers. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


23I 


As  the  night  wore  on  and  the  fumes  of  the  liquor 
Bulstrode  had  drank  mounted  to  his  brain,  clearing 
it,  as  he  always  protested,  the  sense  of  slavery  to 
Skelton  vanished.  He  was  a  free  man ;  he  was  not 
simply  an  embodied  intellect  kept  by  Skelton  for  his 
uses,  as  the  feudal  barons  of  old  kept  the  wearers 
of  the  motley.  Bulstrode  began  to  walk  about  jo- 
vially, to  hold  up  his  head,  to  mend  his  slouchy  gait 
and  careless  manners.  He  strolled  up  to  Mrs.  Blair, 
standing  by  the  library  door,  with  as  much  of  an  air 
as  if  he  owned  Deerchase.  Skelton,  who  was  not 
far  off,  said,  smiling,  to  Sylvia : 

"  Drink  does  improve  Bulstrode.  He  always  de- 
clares that  it  makes  a  gentleman  of  him." 

It  was  now  getting  towards  four  o'clock,  and  peo- 
ple with  drives  of  ten  and  fifteen  miles  before  them 
began  to  make  the  move  to  go.  A  few  dancers  were 
yet  spinning  about  in  the  hall.  Bulstrode  gallantly 
complimented  Mrs.  Blair  upon  her  looks,  her  gown — 
everything.  Elizabeth,  with  a  smile,  received  his 
praises.  Then,  emboldened,  he  began  to  be  rash, 
saying : 

"  And  when  the  time  comes,  my  dear  madam,  that 
you  are  in  the  commanding  place  you  ought  to  have 
— when  you  are  possessed  of  the  power  which  money 
gives — when  what  is  Skelton's  now  shall  be  yours 
and  your  children's — " 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Blair  nervously  and  turning 
pale.  Her  eyes  sought  for  Skelton  ;  he  was  not  five 
feet  off,  and  one  look  at  him  showed  that  he  had 
heard  every  word,  and  he  was  too  acute  and  instant 
of  comprehension  not  to  have  taken  it  in  at  once. 
Sylvia  Shapleigh  had  just  gone  off  with  her  father, 


232 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


and  practically  Skelton  and  Mrs.  Blair  and  Bulstrode 
were  alone. 

"You  think,  perhaps,"  said  Bulstrode,  laughing 
wickedly,  "  that  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Skelton  will  hear — " 
Bulstrode  had  not  seen  Skelton,  and  thought  him 
altogether  out  of  earshot.  "  But,  to  use  a  very  tri- 
fling standard  of  value,  madam,  I  don't  at  this  mo- 
ment care  a  twopenny  damn  whether  Skelton  hears 
me  or  not!  The  money  ought  to  be  yours  one  day, 
and  it  will  be — "  As  he  spoke,  there  was  Skelton  at 
his  elbow. 

Skelton's  black  eyes  were  simply  blazing.  He 
looked  ready  to  fell  Bulstrode  with  one  blow  of  his 
sinewy  arm.  His  first  glance — a  fearful  one — seemed 
to  sober  Bulstrode  instantly.  The  music  was  still 
crashing  melodiously  in  the  hall ;  the  warm,  perfumed 
air  from  the  long  greenhouse  with  its  wide-open  doors 
floated  in  ;  the  yellow  light  from  a  group  of  wax  can- 
dles in  a  sconce  fell  upon  them. 

Skelton'  said  not  a  word  as  he  fixed  his  eyes 
wrathfully  on  Bulstrode,  but  Bulstrode  seemed  ac- 
tually to  wither  under  that  look  of  concentrated  rage. 

"  Skelton,"  said  Bulstrode  in  an  agony,  the  drops 
appearing  upon  his  broad  forehead,  "  I  have  violated 
no  promise."  He  stopped,  feeling  the  weakness  of 
the  subterfuge. 

"I  would  scarcely  exact  a  promise  from  one  so 
incapable  of  keeping  one,"  answered  Skelton  in  calm 
and  modulated  tones.  He  had  but  one  wish  then, 
and  that  was  to  get  Mrs.  Blair  out  of  the  way  that 
he  might  work  his  will  on  Bulstrode.  The  restraint 
of  her  presence  infuriated  him,  the  more  when  she 
said,  in  trembling  tones : 


•  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 


233 


"  Pray,  forgive  him ;  he  was  imprudent,  but  the 
secret  is  safe  with  us." 

"  With  us  !  "     Then  Blair  knew  as  well. 

"  I  have  no  secret,  Mrs.  Blair,"  answered  Skelton 
with  indomitable  coolness.  "What  this — person  told 
you  is  no  secret.  As  it  is  very  remote,  and  as  there 
are  chances  of  which  Bulstrode  himself  does  not 
take  into  account,  I  thought  it  useless  to  inform  you. 
But,  if  you  desire,  I  will,  to-morrow  morning,  ex- 
plain the  whole  thing  to  you  and  your  husband." 

"  Pray — pray,  do  not !  "  cried  Elizabeth. 

Skelton  bowed,  and  said  :  "  As  you  please.  But 
rest  assured  that,  although  I  never  volunteered  the 
information  as  this  man  has,  yet  I  stand  ready  to 
answer  all  questions  from  those  who  are  authorised 
to  ask  them." 

Bulstrode  gazed  helplessly  from  one  to  the  other, 
strangely  overcome.  There  was  something  inex- 
pressibly appealing  in  the  look  ;  he  feared  that  he 
had  lost  the  regard  of  the  only  woman  who  had  for 
him  any  tenderness  of  feeling,  had  revealed  a  stain 
upon  the  boy  he  loved  better  than  any  creature  in 
the  world,  and  had  mortally  offended  the  man  upon 
whom  he  depended  for  bread. 

"  Skelton,"  he  cried,  almost  in  tears,  "  I  told  her 
when  the  ruin  that  you  promised  Jack  Blair  seemed 
to  be  accomplished ;  when  she,"  indicating  Mrs.  Blair, 
"  was  likely  to  be  houseless  and  homeless ;  when  her 
only  son  lay  stretched  upon  his  bed  more  dead  than 
alive  ;  when,  I  tell  you,  any  man  who  had  not  a  stone 
in  his  bosom  for  a  heart  would  have  felt  for  her; 
when  I  would  have  laid  down  my  worthless  life  for 
her  to  have  brought  ease.  Can  you  blame  me  ? " 


234 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


It  was  getting  to  be  too  much  of  a  scene.  Skel- 
ton  turned  towards  Bulstrode,  who  was  utterly  ab- 
ject and  pitiable.  The  collapse  of  any  human  being 
is  overpowering,  but  of  a  man  with  an  intellect  like 
Bulstrode's  it  became  terrible.  Mrs.  Blair's  large  and 
beautiful  eyes  filled  with  tears  that  rolled  down  her 
cheeks  and  upon  her  bare,  white  neck.  She  put  her 
hand  on  Bulstrode's  arm ;  it  was  the  first  kind  touch 
of  a  woman's  hand  that  he  had  felt  for  thirty  years. 

"  It  was  your  kindness,  your  tenderness  for  me 
and  mine  that  made  you  tell  me ;  and  if  all  the  world 
turns  against  you,  I  will  not." 

Bulstrode  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  kissed 
it  reverently,  and  her  womanly  compassion  seemed  to 
awaken  some  spark  of  manliness  in  him.  He  made 
no  further  appeal. 

Skelton  all  this  time  was  cold  with  rage.  He  had 
been  in  rages  with  Bulstrode  many  times,  and  he  had 
wreaked  vengeance  on  him ;  he  could  say  words  to 
Bulstrode  that  would  make  him  wince,  but  he  could 
not  say  them  before  Mrs.  Blair.  After  a  moment  he 
bowed  low  to  her  again. 

"  I  will  not  detain  you  further.  Only,  pray  re- 
member that  you  are  at  liberty  to  take  me  at  my 
word  at  any  time." 

Mrs.  Blair  paused  a  moment,  and  then,  recover- 
ing herself,  replied,  with  something  like  haughtiness : 

"I  have  no  desire  to  inquire  further;  and  since 
this  knowledge  has  certainly  not  made  me  any  hap- 
pier, and  as  I  am  clear  that  the  affair  is  in  the  hands 
of  the  law,  I  have  no  intention  of  making  it  known 
to  anybody  whatever."  Then  she  said  to  Bulstrode : 
"Good  night,  my  friend." 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  235 

Skelton  accompanied  her  quite  to  her  carriage. 
He  doubted  the  capacity  of  any  woman  to  keep  a 
secret,  and  he  was  in  that  state  of  furious  displeasure 
and  disappointment  that  the  betrayal  of  what  he 
earnestly  desired  to  keep  secret  would  place  any 
man.  But  he  had  an  unshakable  composure.  Mrs. 
Blair,  knowing  him  as  well  as  she  did,  could  not  but 
admire  his  coolness  under  agitating  circumstances. 

Everybody  then  was  going.  Great  family  car- 
riages were  being  drawn  up  before  the  broad  porch. 
The  lights  had  burned  low,  and  there  was  a  greyness 
over  everything;  a  cloud  of  white  mists  lay  over  the 
green  fields;  the  woods  were  bathed  in  a  ghostly 
haze ;  it  was  the  unearthly  morning  hour  which  is 
neither  night  nor  day. 

Skelton  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  hall  telling 
everybody  good-bye,  receiving  calmly  and  smilingly 
congratulations  on  his  charming  ball.  Sylvia  Shap- 
leigh,  her  eyes  languid  with  excitement  and  want  of 
sleep,  followed  in  her  mother's  wake  to  say  good- 
bye. She  knew  Skelton's  countenance  perfectly,  and 
she  alone  perceived  that  something  strange  and  dis- 
pleasing had  happened. 

At  last  everybody  was  gone,  even  the  musicians, 
the  negroes — everybody.  Skelton  stood  in  the  porch 
watching  the  rosy  dawn  over  the  delicious  landscape, 
his  face  sombre,  his  whole  air  one  of  tension.  His 
fury  against  Bulstrode  had  partly  abated.  On  the 
contrary,  a  feeling  of  cynical  pleasure  at  the  way  he 
would  confute  him  took  its  place.  So,  the  heedless 
old  vagabond  had  gone  over  to  Newington  with  that 
cock-and-bull  story  of  a  fortune  whenever  he,  Skel- 
ton, was  married  or  buried ;  and  Mrs.  Blair  and  her 


236  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

husband  had  been  foolish  enough  to  believe  him. 
Well,  they  would  find  out  their  mistake  in  short 
order. 

Skelton  went  straight  to  the  library.  Bulstrode 
was  still  there,  sitting  in  a  great  chair  leaning  heav- 
ily forward.  The  daylight  had  begun  to  penetrate 
through  the  heavy  curtains,  and  the  candles  were 
spluttering  in  their  sockets.  The  first  shock  over, 
Bulstrode  had  got  back  some  of  his  courage.  Skel- 
ton, with  an  inscrutable  smile  on  his  face,  walked  up 
to  him.  Never  was  there  a  greater  contrast  between 
two  men — one,  a  thoroughbred  from  the  crown  of 
his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  accustomed  to  the 
habit  of  command  ;  the  other,  bourgeois  all  over,  and 
only  asserting  himself  by  an  effort.  Bulstrode,  mean- 
ing to  show  that  he  was  not  cowed,  began,  like  a 
vulgarian,  to  be  violent. 

"  Look  here,  Skelton,"  he  began  aggressively, 
"  it's  done,  and  there's  no  use  talking.  But  recol- 
lect that  I'm  Lewis  Pryor's  guardian — recollect — I 
— er — "  Here  Bulstrode  began  to  flounder. 

"  I  recollect  it  all,"  answered  Skelton  contemptu- 
ously ;  "  and  I  recollect,  too,  that  you  are  still  half 
drunk.  When  you  are  sober — " 

"  Sober,"  said  poor  Bulstrode  with  something  like 
a  groan  of  despair.  "When  I'm  sober  I'm  the  most 
miserable,  contemptible  man  on  God's  earth.  When 
I'm  sober  you  can  do  anything  with  me.  I'm  sober 
now,  I'm  afraid." 

He  was  grotesque  even  in  his  deepest  emotions. 
Skelton's  quick  eye  had  caught  sight  of  Lewis  Pryor 
lying  asleep  on  the  sofa.  He  went  towards  him  and 
drew  back  tenderly  the  curtains  that  half  enveloped 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


237 


him.  The  boy  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  youth  and 
health,  a  slight  flush  upon  his  dark  cheek,  his  hair 
tumbled  over  his  handsome  head,  one  arm  thrown 
off ;  there  was  something  wonderfully  attractive  in 
his  boyish  beauty. 

"  Look  at  him  well,"  said  Skelton,  with  a  new, 
strange  pride  in  his  voice.  "  See  how  manly,  how 
well  formed  he  is — slight,  but  a  powerful  fellow — 
worth  two  of  that  hulking  Blair  boy.  See  his  fore- 
head ;  did  you  ever  see  a  fool  with  a  forehead  like 
that  ?  and  the  cut  of  the  mouth  and  chin !  Think 
you,  Bulstrode,  that  with  this  boy  I  will  ever  let  the 
Blairs  get  any  of  that  money  that  you  foolishly  told 
them  they  would  ?  Could  not  any  father  be  proud 
of  such  a  boy  ?  I  tell  you  there  are  times  when  I 
yearn  over  him  womanishly — when  I  cannot  trust 
myself  near  him  for  fear  I  will  clasp  him  in  my  arms. 
I  envy  Blair  but  one  thing,  and  that  is,  that  he  can 
show  the  fondness  for  his  son  that  I  feel  for  mine 
but  cannot  show.  Did  you  think,  did  you  dream 
for  a  moment,  that  I  would  not  see  this  boy  righted  ? " 
He  said  "  this  boy  "  with  an  accent  of  such  devoted 
pride  that  Bulstrode  could  only  gaze  astounded,  well 
as  he  knew  Skelton's  secret  devotion  to  the  boy. 
He  had  never  in  all  his  life  seen  Skelton  so  moved 
by  anything.  Skelton  bent  down  and  kissed  Lewis 
on  the  forehead.  If  the  portrait  of  Skelton's  great- 
grandfather that  hung  over  the  mantelpiece  had 
stepped  down  from  its  frame  and  kissed  the  boy,  Bul- 
strode could  scarcely  have  been  more  surprised.  No 
mother  over  her  first-born  could  have  shown  more 
fondness  than  Skelton. 

"  Go,  now,"  presently  cried  Skelton.  His  anger 
16 


238  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

had  quite  vanished.  It  seemed  as  if  in  that  one  burst 
of  paternal  feeling  all  pride  and  anger  had  melted 
away.  He  could  defy  the  Blairs  now.  Bulstrode 
might  have  retaliated  on  him  what  he  had  said  to 
Mrs.  Blair  about  it.  He  might  have  said  :  "  How  can 
you  prove  it  ?  So  anxious  you  were  to  give  this 
child  a  respectable  parentage,  that  you  cannot  now 
undo,  if  you  will,  your  own  work.  And  who  could 
not  see  an  object  in  it  that  would  make  people  be- 
lieve you  seized  upon  this  boy  merely  as  an  instru- 
ment against  the  Blairs?"  But  he  said  not  a  word. 
He  got  up  and  went  out,  and,  as  he  passed,  he  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  boy's  head. 

"I,  too,  have  loved  him  well,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Skelton,  "  and  that  may  help  you  yet. 
No  man  that  loves  that  boy  can  my  anger  hold 
against." 

And  so  poor  Lewis,  who  often  felt  and  said  sadly 
that  he  had  no  one  to  love  him,  was  fondled  ador- 
ingly by  the  last  person  in  the  world  that  he  would 
have  expected. 

Skelton  shut  and  locked  the  library  door,  and, 
tenderly  placing  the  boy's  head  in  a  more  comforta- 
ble position,  sat  down  in  a  great  chair  and  watched 
him.  He  could  not  at  that  moment  bear  to  have 
Lewis  out  of  his  sight.  Yes,  the  time  had  now  come 
that  he  could  tell  him  what  had  burned  within  him 
for  so  long.  The  boy  was  in  himself  so  graceful,  so 
gifted,  there  was  so  much  to  give  him,  that  the  fool- 
ish world  would  be  compelled  to  court  him  and  to 
forget  that  stain  upon  him.  Skelton  said  to  himself 
that,  had  he  the  choice  of  every  quality  a  boy  should 
have,  he  would  have  chosen  just  such  a  mind  and 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


239 


character  as  Lewis  had.  He  was  so  thoroughly  well 
balanced ;  he  had  a  fine  and  vigorous  mind,  high  up 
in  the  scale  of  talent,  but  far  removed  from  the  ab- 
normal quality  of  genius ;  there  would  be  for  him 
no  stupendous  infantile  performances  to  haunt  the 
whole  of  his  future  life,  no  overweighting  of  any 
one  faculty  to  the  disproportion  of  the  rest.  And 
then,  he  had  an  eaglet's  spirit.  Skelton  smiled  when 
he  remembered  that  no  human  being  had  ever  so 
stood  upon  punctilio  with  him  as  this  little  black- 
eyed  boy.  He  had,  too,  an  exquisite  common  sense, 
which  enabled  him  to  submit  readily  to  proper  au- 
thority; he  was  obedient  enough  to  Bulstrode.  And 
then,  he  had  so  much  pride  that  he  could  never  be 
vain ;  and  he  had  naturally  the  most  modest  and 
graceful  little  air  in  the  world.  Ah,  to  think  that 
with  such  a  boy  the  Blairs  should  dream  that  heaven 
and  earth  would  not  be  moved  to  see  him  righted ! 
And,  since  the  boy  was  the  instrument  to  defeat  the 
Blairs,  there  was  no  reason  that  Skelton  should  not 
follow  up  that  fancy  for  Sylvia  Shapleigh.  On  the 
whole,  he  could  part  with  the  money  with  an  excel- 
lent grace  to  Lewis,  and  he  would  still  be  rich,  ac- 
cording to  the  standard  of  the  people  about  him. 
Sylvia  would  forgive  Lewis's  existence.  Skelton  was 
no  mean  judge  of  women,  and  he  knew  instinctively 
that  Sylvia  Shapleigh  would  be  the  most  forgiving 
woman  in  the  world  for  what  had  happened  in  the 
past,  and  the  most  unforgiving  one  of  any  future 
disloyalty.  He  even  smiled  to  himself  when  he  im- 
agined the  discomfiture  of  the  Blairs.  He  would 
give  them  no  warning;  and  he  felt  perfectly  certain 
that  Blair  would  not  avail  himself  of  that  suggestion 


240 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


made  to  Mrs.  Blair  to  ride  over  to  Deerchase  and  see 
for  himself.  And  then,  if  Sylvia  would  marry  him, 
imagine  the  excitement  of  the  Blairs,  the  fierce  de- 
light, and  then  the  chagrin,  the  disappointment  of 
finding  out  that  Lewis  Pryor  was  to  step  in  and  get 
all  that  they  had  looked  upon  as  theirs.  Skelton 
even  began  to  see  that  possibly  this  forcing  a  de- 
cision upon  him  was  not  half  a  bad  thing.  He  had 
been  haunted  for  some  months  by  Sylvia  Shapleigh's 
wit  and  charm;  her  beauty,  he  rightly  thought,  was 
overestimated,  but  her  power  to  please  was  not  es- 
teemed half  enough.  He  had  begun  lately  for  the 
first  time  to  look  forward  apprehensively  to  old  age. 
He  sometimes  fancied  himself  sitting  alone  in  his 
latter  days  at  his  solitary  hearth,  and  the  thought 
was  hateful  to  him.  He  realised  well  enough  that 
only  a  woman  in  a  thousand  could  make  him  happy, 
but  Sylvia  Shapleigh,  he  began  to  feel,  was  the  wom- 
an. And,  considering  the  extreme  affection  he  felt 
for  Lewis,  it  was  not  unlikely — here  Skelton  laughed 
to  himself — that  he  was  by  nature  a  domestic  charac- 
ter. He  began  to  fancy  life  at  Deerchase  with  Sylvia, 
and  became  quite  fascinated  with  the  picture  drawn 
by  his  own  imagination.  She  was  a  woman  well  cal- 
culated to  gratify  any  man's  pride,  and  deep  down 
in  his  own  heart  Skelton  knew  that  was  the  great 
thing  with  him.  And  she  had  a  heart — in  fact,  Skel- 
ton would  have  been  a  little  afraid  of  a  creature  with 
so  much  feeling  if  she  had  not  had  likewise  a  fine 
understanding.  And  if  that  one  boy  of  his  gave  him 
such  intense  happiness,  even  with  all  the  wrath  and 
humiliation  that  had  been  brought  upon  him  thereby, 
what  could  he  not  feel  for  other  children  in  whose 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


241 


existence  there  was  no  shame  ?  And  then,  the  thought 
of  a  lonely  and  unloved  old  age  became  doubly  hate- 
ful to  him.  Until  lately  he  had  not  really  been  able 
to  persuade  himself  that  he  must  bear  the  common 
fate ;  that  he,  Richard  Skelton,  must  some  day  grow 
old,  infirm,  dependent.  Seeing,  though,  that  youth 
had  departed  in  spite  of  him,  he  began  to  fear  that 
old  age  might,  after  all,  come  upon  him.  But  grow- 
ing old  soothed  by  Sylvia's  charming  companionship 
and  tender  ministrations,  and  with  new  ties,  new 
emotions,  new  pleasures,  was  not  terrifying  to  him. 
He  revolved  these  things  in  his  mind,  occasionally 
looking  fondly  at  the  sleeping  boy,  who  was  indeed 
all  that  Skelton  said  he  was.  Skelton  had  no  idea  of 
falling  asleep,  but  gradually  a  delicious  languor  stole 
on  him.  How  merrily  the  blackbirds  were  singing 
outside,  and  the  sparrows  chirped  and  chattered  un- 
der the  eaves!  Afar  off  he  heard  in  the  stillness  of 
the  summer  morning  the  tinkling  of  the  bells  as  the 
cows  were  being  driven  to  the  pasture,  then  all  the 
sweet  country  sounds  melted  away  into  golden  si- 
lence, and  he  slept. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

IT  was  well  on  towards  twelve  o'clock  before 
either  Skelton  or  Lewis  awaked.  The  candles  had 
long  since  burnt  out,  and  the  great,  square,  sombre 
room  was  quite  dark.  Since  the  early  morning  the 
sky  had  become  overcast,  and  a  steady,  cold  rain 
was  falling  outside.  The  penetrating  damp  air  chilled 
Skelton  to  the  bone,  and  he  waked  with  an  uncom- 
fortable start.  At  the  very  same  instant,  Lewis, 
lying  on  the  sofa,  also  roused,  and  both  pairs  of  eyes, 
so  strangely  alike,  were  fixed  on  each  other. 

Skelton  was  still  under  the  spell  of  that  burst  of 
parental  passion  that  had  overcome  him  the  night 
before.  His  sleep  had  been  full  of  dreams  of  the 
boy,  and  when  he  waked  and  saw  Lewis's  black  eyes 
gazing  with  sleepy  wonder  into  his  own,  it  seemed 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world. 

There  was  always  something  compelling  in  Skel- 
ton's  glance,  but  the  affectionate  expression  that  gave 
his  eyes  a  velvety  softness,  like  a  woman's,  was  alto- 
gether new  to  Lewis  Pryor.  It  exercised  a  certain 
magnetism  over  him,  and  he  felt  his  own  gaze  fixed 
on  Skelton's  by  a  power  he  could  not  understand. 
He  lay  there  for  some  minutes  under  the  fascination 
of  Skelton's  eyes,  with  a  half-sleepy  curiosity ;  then 
he  rolled  off  the  sofa,  and,  still  obeying  a  new  and 

(243) 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


243 


strange  impulse,  went  up  to  him.  As  Lewis  stood 
looking  down  upon  the  man  that  had  never  in  all 
those  years  shown  him  the  slightest  mark  of  personal 
fondness,  some  emotion  novel  and  inscrutable  and 
overpoweringly  sweet  seemed  to  wake  within  his 
boyish  heart.  He  felt  instinctively  the  forging  of  a 
new  bond,  but  it  was  all  misty  and  uncertain  to  his 
mind.  The  waking  in  the  strange  room,  instead  of 
his  own  little  cosy  bedroom,  with  Bob  Skinny  shak- 
ing him  and  pleading  with  him  "  to  git  up,  fur  de 
Lord's  sake,  Marse  Lewis  " — the  rising  ready  dressed, 
the  finding  of  Skelton  looking  at  him  with  that  ex- 
pression of  passionate  tenderness,  was  like  a  dream 
to  him.  Skelton  put  out  his  hand — his  impulse  was 
to  open  his  arms  and  strain  the  boy  to  his  breast — 
and  said : 

"  Lewis,  have  you  slept  well  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  after  a  pause  answered  Lewis. 

"So  have  I,"  said  Skelton,  "although  I  did  not 
mean  to  sleep  when  I  threw  myself  in  this  chair. 
But  you  should  sleep  well  and  peacefully,  my  boy. 
Tell  me,"  he  continued,  holding  the  boy's  hand  in 
his  strong  yet  gentle  clasp,  "  tell  me,  have  I,  in  all 
these  years  that  we  have  lived  together,  have  I  ever 
spoken  unkindly  to  you?" 

Lewis  thought  for  a  moment  gravely,  bringing 
his  narrow  black  brows  together. 

"No,  sir,  not  that  I  remember,"  he  replied,  after 
a  moment. 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  I  would,"  said  Skelton  in  a 
voice  of  the  most  thrilling  sweetness,  "  for  you  are 
mine — you  are  more  to  me  than  the  whole  world. 
You  are  my  son." 


244 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


If  Skelton  expected  Lewis  to  fall  upon  his  neck 
when  these  words  were  uttered,  he  was  cruelly  dis- 
appointed. The  boy  drew  himself  up  perfectly  rigid. 
He  put  up  his  arm  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow,  and 
turned  deathly  pale.  Skelton,  watching  him  with 
jealous  affection,  felt  as  if  a  knife  had  entered  his 
heart  when  he  saw  the  pallor,  the  distress,  that 
quickly  overcame  Lewis.  Neither  spoke  for  some 
moments.  Skelton,  leaning  forwards  in  his  chair, 
his  face  pale  and  set,  but  his  eyes  burning,  and  his 
heart  thumping  like  a  nervous  woman's,  watched  the 
boy  in  a  sort  of  agony  of  affection,  waiting  for  the 
answering  thrill  that  was  to  bring  Lewis  to  his  arms. 
But  Lewis  involuntarily  drew  farther  off.  A  deep 
flush  succeeded  his  first  paleness;  his  face  worked 
piteously,  and  suddenly  he  burst  into  a  passion  of 
tears. 

Skelton  fell  back  in  his  chair,  with  something  like 
a  groan.  He  had  not  meant  to  tell  it  in  that  way ; 
he  had  been  betrayed  into  it,  as  it  were,  by  the  very 
tenderness  of  his  love,  by  the  scorn  of  the  idea  that 
anybody  should  suspect  that  he  would  permit  the 
Blairs,  or  anybody  in  the  world,  to  profit  to  Lewis's 
disadvantage.  He  had  sometimes  in  bitterness  said 
to  himself  that  love  was  not  meant  for  him.  Whether 
he  loved — as  he  truly  did — in  that  first  early  passion 
for  Elizabeth  Armistead,  he  was  scorned  and  cast 
aside ;  or  whether  he  was  loved  with  adoring  tender- 
ness, as  he  had  been  by  the  woman  he  married,  yet 
it  laid  upon  him  a  burden  that  he  had  carried  angrily 
and  rebelliously  for  many  years.  And  seeing  in 
Sylvia  Shapleigh  a  woman  that  in  his  maturity  he 
could  love,  there  was  linked  with  it  either  making 


CHILDREN    OF    DESTINY. 


245 


his  enemies  rich  at  his  expense,  or  else  proclaiming 
the  stain  upon  this  boy  to  the  world.  And  he  did  so 
love  the  boy !  But  after  a  while  his  indomitable 
courage  rose.  Lewis  was  excited;  he  did  not  fully 
take  in  what  had  been  said  to  him  ;  he  could  not 
understand  what  splendid  possibilities  were  opened 
to  him  in  those  few  words,  how  completely  the  face 
of  existence  was  changed  for  him.  Skelton  tried  to 
speak,  but  his  voice  died  in  his  throat.  He  made  a 
mighty  effort,  and  it  returned  to  him,  but  strained 
and  husky. 

"  Lewis,"  he  said,  "  what  distresses  you  ?  When 
I  said  that  you  were  mine,  I  meant  that  henceforth 
you  should  be  acknowledged  to  the  world;  that  you 
should  have  from  me  all  the  tenderness  that  has 
been  pent  up  in  my  heart  for  so  many  years  ;  that 
you  should  have  a  great  fortune.  If  you  think  I 
have  wronged  you,  is  not  this  reparation  enough  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  boy  after  a  while,  controlling  his 
sobs ;  "  I  know  what  it  means  if  I  am  your  son,  Mr. 
Skelton.  It  means  that  I  cannot  hold  up  my  head 
among  honourable  people  again.  Nothing  can  make 
up  to  me  for  that." 

Skelton  remained  silent.  An  impulse  of  pride  in 
the  boy  came  to  him.  Surely,  Lewis  was  bone  of  his 
bone  and  flesh  of  his  flesh.  No  boy  of  mean  extrac- 
tion could  have  that  lofty  sensibility.  Lewis,  gaining 
courage,  spoke  again,  this  time  with  dogged  obsti- 
nacy. 

"  Mr.  Bulstrode  always  told  me  that  I  was  the 
son  of  Thomas  Pryor  and  Margaret  Pryor ;  and  I 
have  my  father's  books  and  his  picture  upstairs — and 
— and — I  believe  he  is  my  father,  Mr.  Skelton." 


246  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

To  hear  him  speak  of  another  man  as  his  father 
gave  Skelton  a  pang  such  as  he  had  not  felt  for  many 
years. 

"  But,"  he  said  gently,  "  it  can  be  proved ;  and 
you  must  see  for  yourself,  Lewis,  how  immensely  it 
would  be  to  your  worldly  advantage." 

"  It  is  not  to  my  advantage  to  know — to  feel — that 
— that — that  I  am  nobody's  son  ;  that  my  mother 
was —  No  !  no  !  "  he  cried,  bursting  into  tears  again, 
"I'll  not  believe  it." 

It  was  plain  to  Skelton  from  the  boy's  manner 
that  the  idea  was  not  wholly  new  to  him.  After  a 
painful  pause  Skelton  asked  quietly  : 

"  Have  you  ever  had  a  suspicion,  a  feeling,  that 
you  were  not  what  the  world  believes  you  to  be?" 

Lewis  would  not  answer  this,  and  Skelton  re- 
peated it.  Lewis  remained  obstinately  silent,  and 
that  told  the  whole  story. 

"And,"  again  asked  Skelton,  his  voice  trembling, 
"  have  you  never  felt  any  of  those  instinctive  emo- 
tions, any  of  that  natural  feeling  towards  me,  that  I 
felt  towards  you  the  first  moment  I  saw  you,  when 
you  were  barely  six  years  old  ?  for  I  tell  you  that, 
had  I  never  seen  you  until  this  moment,  there  is 
something — there  is  the  strong  voice  of  Nature — that 
would  tell  me  you  were  my  son." 

To  this,  also,  Lewis  would  make  no  answer.  It 
had  begun  to  dawn  upon  his  boyish  soul  that,  along 
with  his  own  keen  shame  and  distress,  he  was  inflict- 
ing something  infinitely  keener  and  more  distressing 
upon  Skelton. 

There  was  a  longer  pause  after  this.  Lewis 
ceased  his  sobbing,  and  sat,  with  a  white  and 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


247 


wretched  face,  looking  down,  the  image  of  shame 
and  sorrow.  As  for  Skelton,  his  heart  was  torn  with 
a  tempest  of  feeling.  Disappointment  and  remorse 
and  love  and  longing  battled  fiercely  within  him. 
With  all  his  wealth,  with  all  his  power,  with  all  his 
capacity  to  charm,  he  could  not  bring  to  him  that 
one  childish  heart  for  which  he  yearned.  He  was 
not  unprepared  for  shame  and  even  reproaches  on 
the  boy's  part,  but  this  stubborn  resistance  was 
maddening.  A  dull-red  flush  glowed  in  his  dark 
face.  He  was  not  used  to  asking  forgiveness,  but 
if  the  boy  exacted  it  he  would  not  even  withhold 
that. 

"  It  is  hard — it  is  hard  for  a  father  to  ask  forgive- 
ness of  his  child,  but  I  ask  it  of  you,  Lewis.  Your 
mother  granted  it  me  with  her  dying  breath.  Will 
you  be  more  unforgiving  than  she  ?  Will  you  deny 
me  the  reparation  that  would  have  made  her  happy  ?" 

Lewis  raised  his  black  eyes  to  Skelton's. 

"Yes,  I  forgive  you,"  he  said  simply;  "but,  Mr. 
Skelton,  you  can't  expect  me  to  give  up  my  good 
name  without  a  struggle  for  it.  Wouldn't  you  strug- 
gle for  yours,  sir  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Skelton,  with  that  glow  of  pride 
which  he  always  felt  when  Lewis  showed  manliness 
of  feeling. 

"  Then,  sir,  you  can't  complain  when  I — when 
Mr.  Bulstrode — Mr.  Bulstrode  is  my  guardian,  sir — 

"  But,  Lewis,"  continued  Skelton,  without  the 
smallest  impatience  but  with  a  loving  insistence, 
"this  is  trifling.  Why  should  I  open  this  terrible 
subject  unless  everything  concerning  it  were  proved 
— unless  it  were  demanded  ?  Do  you  think  this  a 


248 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


sudden  madness  on  my  part  ?  It  is  not.  It  is,  I 
admit,  a  sudden  determination.  I  had  meant  to  wait 
until  you  were  twenty-one — until  you  were  prepared 
in  a  measure  for  it ;  but  circumstances,  and  the  love 
I  bear  you,  Lewis,  have  hastened  it." 

Lewis  sat  gravely  considering. 

"  Then,  Mr.  Skelton,  let  it  rest  until  I  am  twenty- 
one.  I  am  only  fifteen  now — that  is,"  with  a  burn- 
ing blush,  "  Mr.  Bulstrode  says  I  am  only  fifteen, 
and  I  am  not  tall  for  my  age — and  I  can't — depend 
upon  myself  as  I  ought ;  and  I  think  it's  only  fair, 
sir,  to  wait  until  I  am  a  man  before  forcing  this 
thing  on  me.  But  I  think  it  only  fair  to  you,  sir," 
he  added  after  a  pause,  and  rising,  "to  say  that  I 
mean  to  make  the  best  fight  for  my  good  name  that 
I  can.  It  may  be  as  you  say ;  it  may  be  that — that 
my  mother — "  here  the  boy  choked.  "  I  can't  say  it, 
sir.  I  don't  remember  her,  but  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Skel- 
ton, if — if — for  the  sake  of  all  your  money  I  agreed 
that  my  mother  was — I  mean,  sir,  if  any  man  for 
the  sake  of  money,  or  anything  else,  would  dis- 
honour his  mother,  it  would  be  a  villainy.  I  don't 
express  myself  very  well,  but  I  know  what  I  mean ; 
and  I  ask  you,  sir,  would  you  act  differently  in  my 
place  ?" 

Lewis  had  truly  said  that  he  was  not  tall  for  his 
age,  but  as  he  spoke  his  slight,  boyish  figure  seemed 
to  rise  to  man's  stature.  At  first  he  was  hesitating 
and  incoherent  in  his  speech,  but  before  he  finished 
he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Skelton's  so  boldly  that  Skelton 
almost  flinched  under  the  glance.  But  still  there 
was  in  his  heart  that  proud  instinct  of  the  father 
which  made  itself  felt,  saying : 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


249 


"  This,  indeed,  is  my  son — my  soul — my  own 
spirit." 

Lewis  waited,  as  if  for  an  answer.  Skelton,  whose 
patience  and  mildness  had  suffered  no  diminution, 
answered  him  gently : 

"  Our  cases  are  different.  You  are  more  unfor- 
tunate than  I,  but  one  thing  I  feel  deeply  :  the  re- 
gard you  have  for  your  good  name;  the  reluctance 
you  have  to  exchange  it  for  any  worldly  considera- 
tion is  not  lost  on  me.  On  the  contrary,  it  makes 
you  still  dearer  to  me.  I  acknowledge,  had  you  not 
recognised  the  point  of  honour  involved,  I  should 
have  been  disappointed.  But  I  am  not  disappointed 
in  you — I  never  can  be." 

Lewis  persisted  in  his  question,  though. 

"  But  won't  you  tell  me,  Mr.  Skelton — suppose 
you  had  been  offered  Deerchase,  and  all  your  fortune 
and  everything,  if  you  would  agree  that  your  mother 
was — was —  I  can't  say  it,  sir.  And  would  you  hare 
taken  it  ?  " 

The  answer  was  drawn  from  Skelton  against  his 
will ;  but  the  boy  stood  with  the  courage  and  per- 
sistence of  an  accusing  conscience,  asking  the  ques- 
tion of  which  the  answer  seemed  so  conclusive  to  his 
young  mind. 

"  No,"  at  last  answered  Skelton  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  Lewis  eagerly,  "  do  you  blame 
me  for  acting  likewise  ?  " 

"But  there  is  no  volition  in  the  case,"  said  Skel- 
ton. "  It  is  forced  upon  you,  my  poor  boy.  You 
have  no  choice." 

"At  least,"  said  Lewis,  after  a  moment,  while  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  "at  least,  I  will  stand  up  for 


250 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


my  mother  as  long  as  I  can ;  at  least,  I  will  make 
the  best  fight  for  her  own  good  name  that  I  know 
how.  And  I  tell  you,  M  .  Skelton,  that  even — even 
if  I  am  forced,  as  you  say — to — to — acknowledge  it, 
I'll  never  profit  by  it.  This  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
a  long  time  ago — ever  since  I  first  began  to  won- 
der—" 

Skelton  knew  then  that,  in  the  boy's  crude,  inex- 
perienced way,  he  had  prepared  himself  to  meet  the 
emergency  when  it  came.  Lewis  turned  to  go  out 
of  the  room,  but  Skelton  called  him  back  and  silently 
drew  the  boy  towards  him.  He  passed  his  hand  over 
Lewis's  closely  cropped  black  head  and  rested  it 
fondly  on  his  shoulder,  all  the  time  looking  into  the 
boy's  eyes  with  tenderness  unspeakable.  In  that 
moment  a  faint  stirring  of  Nature  came  to  Lewis. 
He  began  to  feel  his  heart  swell  towards  Skelton 
with  a  feeling  of  oneness.  Skelton  saw  in  his  trou- 
bled, changeful  look  a  new  expression.  Something 
like  affection  quivered  in  the  boy's  face.  Skelton 
bent  and  kissed  him  softly  on  the  forehead,  and 
Lewis  went  out  silently. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SKELTON  remained  in  the  library  to  recover  his 
composure.  He  sat  staring,  with  unseeing  eyes,  at 
the  fireplace  filled  with  cedar  boughs.  Pride  and 
intense  affection  tugged  at  his  heart.  Never,  in  all 
his  life,  had  his  proud  spirit  so  abased  itself  as  be- 
fore this  boy,  whom  he  loved  with  the  concentrated 
passion  of  his  whole  life.  He  had  not  sent  him  to 
school  from  the  purest  softness  of  heart,  because  he 
was  not  happy  with  Lewis  out  of  his  sight.  He  had 
watched  over  him  silently,  and  at  last  the  barriers  of 
his  pride  had  been  swept  away  by  the  torrent  of  his 
affection  ;  and  with  what  result  ?  He  might  indeed 
feel  proud  of  the  tenacity  with  which  Lewis  had  held 
on  to  what  he  thought  was  his  honour ;  but  had  not 
resentment  and  hatred  been  planted  in  his  heart  by 
the  revelation  made  prematurely  by  Skelton's  tender- 
ness ?  And  the  idea  that  the  Blairs  should  ever  profit 
to  that  boy's  disadvantage — the  mere  thought  en- 
raged him.  And  Lewis  was  his  own  son  in  many 
particulars.  His  promise  that  he  would  never  profit 
by  his  own  dishonour  was  no  mere  boyish  threat. 
Nothing  was  more  likely  than  that  he  should  hold  to 
it  most  steadfastly. 

After  a  while  Skelton  rose  and  went  out  into  the 

(251) 


252 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


hall.  Under  Bridges'  masterly  management  every- 
thing had  assumed  its  usual  appearance,  and,  as  the 
day  was  singularly  cold  for  the  season  and  the  down- 
pour incessant,  a  little  sparkling  wood  fire  had  been 
lighted  in  the  broad  fireplace.  Skelton  went  up  to 
it  and  warmed  his  hands  and  chilled  feet  before  the 
cheerful  blaze.  He  was  still  in  his  evening  dress, 
and  the  daylight,  dull  as  it  was,  showed  plainly  cer- 
tain marks  of  agitation  upon  his  features.  He  looked 
every  day  of  his  forty  years.  Bob  Skinny  came  up 
in  a  moment  to  ask  if  Skelton  would  have  his  break- 
fast then. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  briefly.  "  Where  is  Mr.  Lewis 
Pryor?" 

"  He  gone  up  sty'ars,  sah,  tuggin'  he  dog  arter 
him,  an'  I  heah  him  lock  he  do'.  I  make  Sam  Trot- 
ter k'yar  him  some  breakfas',  an'  Sam  say  Marse 
Lewis  hardly  corndescen'  ter  open  de  do',  an'  didn' 
eat  nuttin'  hardly." 

Skelton  was  troubled  at  this.  It  was  a  sure  sign 
that  Lewis  was  in  trouble  when  he  clung  desperately 
to  Service,  his  dog. 

Skelton  had  his  breakfast  on  a  little  round  table 
in  the  corner  of  the  hall  by  the  fire,  and  when  it  was 
taken  away  he  sat  moodily  in  the  same  spot,  trifling 
with  a  cigar.  He  had  almost  forgotten  the  ball  the 
night  before.  From  where  he  sat  his  weary  eyes 
took  in  all  the  sad  and  monotonous  landscape — the 
river,  now  a  sea  of  grey  mist  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach ;  the  sullen  lapping  of  the  water  upon 
the  sandy  stretch  of  shore,  distinctly  heard  in  the 
profound  stillness;  and  the  steady  drip,  drip,  of  the 
rain  from  the  roof,  and  the  tall  elms,  and  the  stunted 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


253 


alders  by  the  edge  of  the  water,  was  inexpressibly 
cheerless.  Even  the  great  hall,  as  he  looked  around 
it,  was  dreary.  There  were  neither  women  nor  chil- 
dren in  that  house,  and  it  never  had  an  inhabited 
look.  Over  everything  was  an  air  of  chill  and  pre- 
cise elegance  that  often  struck  Skelton  painfully. 
His  glance  swept  involuntarily  to  the  portrait  of  his 
father,  taken  when  a  boy,  that  so  much  resembled 
Lewis ;  and  then,  as  his  eye  travelled  round  upon  the 
pictures  of  the  dead  and  gone  Skeltons,  he  was  sol- 
emnly reminded  how  short  had  been  their  lives. 
They  were  all  young;  there  was  not  a  grey  head  in 
the  lot. 

Presently  he  rose  and  stood  before  the  fire,  gazing 
out  of  the  window  with  melancholy  indifference,  and 
after  a  while  Bulstrode  slouched  across  the  farther 
end  of  the  hall.  He  did  not  go  near  Skelton,  who 
unconsciously  grew  rigid  when  he  recognised  Bul- 
strode's  passing  presence.  He  had  not  for  one  in- 
stant forgotten  Bulstrode's  foolish  and,  to  him,  ex- 
asperating disclosure  to  Mrs.  Blair ;  but,  after  all, 
nothing  ever  could  restrain  that  reckless  tongue. 
Getting  angry  over  it  was  the  poorest  business  im- 
aginable. 

In  a  short  while  Skelton  went  off  to  his  room. 
The  house,  where  twelve  hours  before  there  had  been 
lights  and  music,  and  dancing  and  feasting,  was  now 
as  quiet  as  the  grave.  The  only  sound  heard  was 
the  incessant  drip,  drip,  of  the  water  from  the  eaves 
of  the  house,  and  from  the  sodden  trees,  and  from 
the  damp  masses  of  shrubbery,  and  the  moaning  of 
the  grey  river.  Over  the  whole  place,  where  last 
night  had  been  a  great  fete,  was  rain  and  gloom  and 
17 


254 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


sadness;  and  of  the  three  persons  whose  splendid 
home  was  here,  each  was  alone  and  wrapped  in  silent 
and  bitter  meditation. 

Lewis  Pryor  spent  the  whole  afternoon,  with  no 
company  but  his  dog,  in  his  own  room,  gazing,  just 
as  Skelton  was  doing  at  that  very  moment,  with 
melancholy  eyes  out  upon  the  watery  landscape. 
How  strange  it  was,  thought  Lewis,  that  the  river, 
which  made  the  whole  scene  so  lovely  and  spark- 
ling on  a  sunny  day,  should  make  it  so  sad  on  a 
dark  day !  Far  down  the  troubled  water,  as  the 
mists  scurried  to  and  fro,  whipped  by  a  sharp  east 
wind,  he  could  occasionally  see  the  three  desolate 
pine  trees  at  Lone  Point.  They  waved  their  giant 
arms  madly,  and  fought  the  wild  rain  and  the  blast. 
The  boy's  heart  sank  lower  every  hour.  Yes,  it  was 
come — the  thing  that  he  had  feared  for  so  long  with 
a  biting  fear.  He  was  told  that  he  was  nobody's 
son  ;  that  foolish  old  Mrs.  Shapleigh  was  right  when 
she  said  he  looked  like  Skelton's  father — like  that 
odious  picture  in  the  hall.  How  he  hated  it,  and 
how  he  would  like  to  throw  it  in  the  fire !  But 
though  his  spirits  sank,  his  courage  remained  high. 
A  fortune  was  a  very  fine  thing,  but  there  was  such 
a  thing  as  paying  too  dear  for  it.  The  determination 
not  to  give  in — to  make  a  fight  for  his  own  respecta- 
bility— grew  and  strengthened  hourly  within  him. 
He  went  and  got  his  few  books  with  the  name 
"  Thomas  Pryor,  M.  A.,"  written  in  them,  and  names 
and  dates.  Then  he  got  out  the  picture  of  the  trim, 
sandy-haired  Thomas  Pryor,  and  tried  vainly  to  see  a 
likeness  between  his  own  clear-cut  olive  face  and  the 
one  before  him.  Alas !  there  was  no  likeness.  He 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 


255 


then  studied  intently  the  pen-and-ink  sketch  of  Mrs. 
Pryor.  The  coloring,  which  had  really  made  some 
resemblance  between  her  and  Lewis,  was  lacking  in 
the  picture,  and  the  cast  of  features  was  wholly  un- 
like. Lewis  got  small  comfort  from  that  picture. 
He  felt  an  inexpressible  weight  upon  his  boyish  soul ; 
he  longed  for  comfort ;  he  thought  that  he  must  be 
the  only  boy  in  the  world  who  had  never  in  all  his 
life  had  any  comforter  except  his  dog,  or  anybody  to 
whom  he  could  confide  his  troubles.  Something 
brought  Hilary  Blair  to  mind,  and  the  scene  at  the 
bedside  as  Hilary  held  his  mother's  hand  and  fondled 
it ;  and  then  Lewis  laid  his  head  down  in  the  cush- 
ioned window  seat  and  cried  bitterly.  The  twilight 
came  on  ;  he  heard  the  servants  moving  about  be- 
low, and  presently  a  tap  came  at  the  door.  Bob 
Skinny  announced,  "  Dinnah,  my  young  marse  !  " 

Lewis  winced  at  the  word,  which,  however,  was 
merely  a  magniloquent  African  compliment  that  Bob 
Skinny  offered  to  all  the  very  young  gentlemen  he 
knew. 

Lewis  and  Skelton  were  remarkably  alike  in  their 
personal  habits.  Each  of  them  made  a  careful  toi- 
let and  strove  to  disguise  the  marks  of  emotion; 
they  were  both  naturally  reticent  and  had  a  delicate 
and  sensitive  pride.  Lewis  took  old  Service  down  to 
dinner  with  him.  Being  still  low-spirited,  he  clung 
to  the  dog.  Skelton  noticed  this,  and  it  told  vol- 
umes. Bulstrode  had  expected,  tremblingly,  all  the 
afternoon,  a  summons  to  Skelton,  and,  not  getting  it, 
was  in  doubt  about  appearing  at  dinner.  In  truth, 
Skelton  had  by  no  means  forgotten  him,  but  he 
rather  scorned  to  take  Bulstrode  too  seriously.  He 


256 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


had  smiled  rather  grimly  as  he  heard  Bulstrode  dur- 
ing the  afternoon  make  his  way  down  to  the  library. 
"  Gone  to  reading  to  distract  his  mind,"  he  thought. 
Just  as  Lewis  showed  depression  by  holding  on  to 
Service,  Bulstrode  showed  it  by  leaving  his  few  old 
friends  that  he  kept  up  in  his  own  room,  and  going 
down  into  the  grand  new  library  after  a  mental  sed- 
ative in  the  shape  of  a  new  book.  The  effect  on 
this  particular  occasion  had  been  such  that  he 
screwed  up  his  courage  to  dine  with  Skelton. 

It  seemed  as  if  within  the  last  twelve  hours  a 
likeness  between  Skelton  and  Lewis  had  come  out 
incalculably  strong.  Each  seemed  to  take  his  emo- 
tions in  the  same  way :  there  were  the  same  lines  of 
tension  about  the  mouth,  the  same  look  of  indomi- 
table courage  in  the  eye,  the  same  modulation  in  the 
voice.  Bulstrode  could  not  but  be  struck  by  it. 
Dinner  passed  off  quite  as  usual.  Skelton  made  a 
few  remarks  to  Lewis,  which  Lewis  answered  re- 
spectfully and  intelligently,  as  usual.  Bulstrode 
occasionally  growled  out  a  sentence.  Bob  Skinny, 
elated  by  the  approaching  departure  of  the  hated 
Bridges,  flourished  the  decanters  about  freely,  but 
for  once  Bulstrode  was  moderate.  To  judge  by 
casual  appearances,  nothing  had  happened.  After 
dinner,  Lewis  disappeared  into  the  library,  still  lug- 
ging his  dog  after  him.  Skelton,  whose  heart  yearned 
over  him,  would  have  liked  to  follow  him,  but  he 
wisely  refrained. 

The  little  fire  had  been  renewed,  and  a  pleasant 
warmth  was  diffused  through  the  lofty  hall.  Sam 
Trotter,  under  Bob  Skinny's  direction,  brought  can- 
dles, in  tall  silver  candlesticks,  and  put  them  on  the 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


257 


round  mahogany  table  in  the  corner  by  the  chimney- 
piece.  Bulstrode  was  lumbering  about  the  hall  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  Skelton  walked  up  to  the 
fireplace  and  seated  himself,  with  a  cigar  and  a 
book,  as  if  unconscious  of  Bulstrode's  presence.  By 
degrees,  Bulstrode's  walk  grew  stealthy;  then  he 
seated  himself  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth  and 
gazed  absently  into  the  fire. 

The  same  stillness  prevailed  as  in  the  afternoon. 
This  struck  Skelton  more  unpleasantly  than  usual. 
He  would  have  liked  to  see  Lewis  romping  about, 
and  making  cheerful,  merry,  boyish  noises.  But 
there  was  no  sound  except  the  dreary  sough  of  the 
rain  and  the  wind,  and  the  harsh  beating  of  the  over- 
hanging trees  against  the  cornice  of  the  house.  The 
wind  seemed  to  be  coming  up  stronger  from  the  bay, 
and  the  waves  rolling  in  sometimes  drowned  the  fall- 
ing of  the  rain.  For  two  hours  the  stillness  was  un- 
broken. Then,  Skelton  having  laid  down  his  book 
for  a  moment,  Bulstrode  asked  suddenly  : 

"  And  how  did  he  take  it  ? " 

Skelton  knew  perfectly  well  what  Bulstrode 
meant,  and,  not  being  a  person  of  subterfuges,  an- 
swered exactly  to  the  point : 

"  Like  a  man." 

"  I  thought  so,"  remarked  Bulstrode.  If  he  had 
studied  ten  years  how  to  placate  Skelton  he  could 
not  have  hit  it  off  more  aptly. 

"  He  grasped  the  point  of  honour  in  a  moment — 
even  quicker  than  I  anticipated.  He  said  he  would 
rather  be  respectably  born  than  have  all  I  could  give 
him.  The  little  rebel  actually  proposed  to  fight  it 
out ;  he  '  hoped  I  would  wait  until  he  was  twenty- 


258  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

one  ;  he  '  wouldn't  profit  by  it  anyhow  ! '  and  he  '  in- 
tended to  make  the  best  fight  he  could.'  Bulstrode, 
I  almost  forgive  you  for  having  forced  that  disclos- 
ure on  me  when  I  remember  the  exquisite  satisfac- 
tion— yes,  good  God  !  the  tremendous  satisfaction — I 
felt  in  that  boy  when  I  saw  that  dogged  determina- 
tion of  his  to  hold  to  what  he  calls  his  honour." 

Bulstrode  knew  by  these  words  that  Skelton  did 
not  intend  to  turn  him  out  of  doors. 

"You  ought  to  have  seen  his  face  the  day  that 
dratted  Mrs.  Shapleigh  told  him  that  he  looked  like 
that  picture."  Bulstrode  jerked  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder  towards  the  picture  of  Skelton's  father.  "  I 
thought  he  would  have  died  of  shame." 

Skelton's  face  at  this  became  sad,  but  it  was  also 
wonderfully  tender.  Bulstrode  kept  on  : 

"I  never  saw  you  both  so  much  alike  as  to-night. 
The  boy's  face  has  hardened ;  he  is  going  through 
with  a  terrible  experience,  and  he  will  come  out  of  it 
a  man,  not  a  boy.  And  your  face,  Skelton,  seemed 
to  be  softening." 

"  And,  by  heaven,  my  heart  is  softening,  too ! " 
cried  Skelton.  "One  would  have  thought  that  I 
would  have  kicked  you  out  of  doors  for  babbling  my 
private  affairs,  but  your  love  for  that  boy,  and  his 
love  for  you — and  so —  I  am  a  weak  fool,  and  for- 
give you.  I  believe  I  am  waking  up  to  the  emotional 
side  of  human  nature." 

"  It's  a  monstrous  sight  deeper  and  bigger  and 
greater  than  the  intellectual  side,"  answered  Bul- 
strode. "  That's  what  I  keep  telling  that  poor  devil, 
Conyers.  I  ain't  got  any  emotional  nature  myself, 
to  speak  of  ;  you  have,  though.  But  you've  been  an 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  259 

intellectual  toper  for  so  long,  that  I  daresay  you'd 
forgotten  all  about  your  emotions  yourself.  Some 
men  like  horse  racing,  and  some  like  to  accumulate 
money,  and  some  like  to  squander  it ;  but  your  dis- 
sipation is  in  mental  processes  of  all  sorts.  You  like 
to  read  for  reading's  sake,  and  write  for  writing's 
sake,  and  your  mind  has  got  to  that  stage,  like 
Michael  Scott's  devil,  it  has  got  to  be  employed  or  it 
will  rend  you.  I  never  saw  such  an  inveterate  appetite 
for  ideas  as  you  have.  But  will  it  ever  come  to  any- 
thing ?  Will  you  ever  write  that  book  ? " 

Skelton  turned  a  little  pale.  The  fierce  ambition 
within  him,  the  pride,  the  licensed  egotism,  all  made 
him  fear  defeat ;  and  suppose  this  work —  But  why 
call  it  a  work  ?  it  was  as  yet  inchoate.  However,  it 
pleased  some  subtile  self-love  of  Skelton's  to  have 
Bulstrode  discuss  him.  Bulstrode  was  no  respecter 
of  persons;  and  Skelton  appreciated  so  much  the 
man's  intellectual  makeup,  that  it  pleased  him  to 
think  that  Bulstrode,  after  living  with  him  all  these 
years,  still  found  him  an  object  of  deep  and  abiding 
interest.  So  he  did  not  check  him.  Few  men  object 
to  having  others  talk  about  themselves. 

"  Whether  I  shall  ever  live  to  finish  it — or  to  be- 
gin it — is  a  question  I  sometimes  ask  myself,"  said 
Skelton.  "When  I  look  around  at  these,"  pointing 
with  his  cigar  to  the  portraits  hanging  on  the  wall, 
"  I  feel  the  futility  of  it.  Forty-six  is  the  oldest  of 
them;  most  of  them  went  off  before  thirty-five. 
Strange,  for  we  are  not  physically  bad  specimens." 

They  were  not.  Skelton  himself  looked  like  a 
man  destined  for  long  life.  He  was  abstemious  in 
every  way,  and  singularly  correct  in  his  habits. 


26o  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

Bulstrode  remained  huddled  in  his  chair,  and,  as 
usual,  when  encouraged,  went  on  talking  without  the 
slightest  reticence. 

"  Sometimes,  when  I  sit  and  look  at  you,  I  ask 
myself,  '  Is  he  a  genius  after  all  ?'  and  then  I  go  and 
read  that  essay  of  yours,  Voices  of  the  People,  and 
shoot  me  if  I  believe  any  young  fellow  of  twenty 
that  ever  lived  could  do  any  better  !  But  that  very 
finish  and  completeness — it  would  have  been  better 
if  it  had  been  crude." 

"  It  is  crude,  very  crude,"  answered  Skelton  with 
fierce  energy,  dashing  his  cigar  stump  into  the  fire. 
"  I  have  things  on  my  library  table  that  would  make 
that  appear  ridiculous." 

"  O  Lord,  no  !  "  replied  Bulstrode  calmly. 

Skelton  felt  like  throwing  him  out  of  the  window 
at  that,  but  Bulstrode  was  quite  unconscious  of  giv- 
ing offense.  His  next  words,  though,  partly  soothed 
Skelton's  self-love  : 

"  Queer  thing,  that,  how  a  man's  lucky  strokes 
sometimes  are  his  destruction.  Now,  that  pamphlet 
— most  unfortunate  thing  that  ever  befell  you.  The 
next  worst  thing  for  you  was  that  you  were  born  to 
one  fortune  and  married  another.  Had  you  been  a 
poor  man  your  career  would  have  been  great ;  but,  as 
it  is,  handicapped  at  every  step  by  money,  you  can  do 
nothing.  For  a  man  of  parts  to  be  thrown  upon  his 
own  resources  is  to  be  cast  into  the  very  lap  of  For- 
tune, as  old  Ben  Franklin  puts  it.  But  your  re- 
sources have  never  been  tested." 

There  was  in  this  an  exquisite  and  subtile  flattery 
to  Skelton,  because  Bulstrode  was  so  unconscious 
of  it. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  261 

"How  about  yourself?"  asked  Skelton  after  a 
while.  "  You  were  cast  in  the  lap  of  Fortune." 

"  O  Lord  !  "  cried  Bulstrode,  "  that's  a  horse  of 
another  colour.  I  came  into  the  world  with  a  parch- 
ing thirst  that  can  never  be  satiated.  But,  mind  you, 
Mr.  Skelton,  had  I  not  been  a  poor  man  I  could  not 
have  been  what  I  am  ;  you  know  what  that  is.  I 
can't  make  a  living,  but  /  know  Greek.  I  can't  keep 
away  from  the  brandy  bottle,  but  if  old  Homer  and 
our  friend  Horace  and  a  few  other  eminent  Greeks 
and  Romans  were  destroyed  this  minute  I  could  re- 
produce much  of  them.  It  maddens  me  sometimes; 
the  possession  of  great  powers  is,  after  all,  a  terrible 
gift.  Lewis  Pryor  has  got  it,  but  he  has  got  it  tem- 
pered with  good  sense.  For  God's  sake,  Skelton, 
don't  make  him  a  rich  man  !  Look  at  yourself,  ruined 
by  it.  The  boy  has  fine  parts.  Some  day,  if  he  is  let 
alone  and  allowed  to  work  for  his  living,  he  will  be 
remarkable  ;  he  will  be  more — he  will  be  admirable  ! 
But  weight  him  down  with  a  fortune,  and  you  will 
turn  him  into  a  country  squire  like  Jack  Blair,  or  into 
a  dilettante  like  yourself.  That's  all  of  it." 

Skelton  lighted  his  cigar  and  began  to  smoke 
savagely.  Was  ever  anything  like  the  perversity  of 
fate — for  he  recognised  as  true  every  word  that  Bui- 
strode  had  uttered.  Because  he  had  much  money 
he  had  started  out  to  make  Blair  feel  the  weight  of 
his  resentment,  and  he  had  spent  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  at  the  business,  and  the  result  was  that  Blair 
was  to-day  better  off  than  he  had  ever  been  since  he 
came  to  man's  estate,  as  he  was  free  at  last  from  a 
vice  that  had  been  eating  him  up  body  and  soul  and 
substance  for  years.  Skelton  longed  to  heap  bene- 


262  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

fits  on  Lewis  Pryor,  but  he  very  much  doubted  if 
any  of  those  things  which  he  designed  as  benefits 
would  make  the  boy  either  happier  or  better. 

Bulstrode's  tongue  continued  to  wag  industrious- 
ly. It  seemed  as  if  by  some  psychic  influence  he  fol- 
lowed the  very  train  of  thought  then  going  through 
Skelton's  mind. 

"  The  women  all  like  Lewis.  I  tell  you,  that's  a 
very  dangerous  gift  for  a  man — worse,  even,  than 
genius." 

Skelton  quite  agreed  with  this  sentiment.  If  the 
late  Mrs.  Skelton  had  not  been  so  distractedly  fond 
of  him,  for  example,  and  had  simply  done  for  him 
what  any  reasonably  affectionate  wife  would  have 
done  for  her  husband,  he  would  not  now  be  in  the 
hateful  position  in  which  he  found  himself.  Her  re- 
lations would  be  welcome  to  her  money,  but  she  had 
put  it  quite  out  of  the  question  that  it  should  ever 
be  theirs. 

"Women  are  monstrous  queer  creatures,  any- 
how," resumed  Bulstrode  despondingly,  as  if  his 
whole  past  and  future  hinged  upon  the  queerness  of 
women. 

Skelton  could  not  forbear  smiling  a  little.  Bui- 
strode  had  suffered  about  as  little  from  the  sex  as 
any  man  that  ever  lived. 

"  Woman,  as  we  know  her,  is  a  comparatively 
modern  invention,"  answered  Skelton,  still  smiling. 
"She  didn't  exist  until  a  few  hundred  years  ago." 

"  That's  it,"  answered  Bulstrode  eagerly.  "  It's 
the  only  fault  I  find  with  my  old  chums,  the  classics; 
they  didn't  have  any  right  notions  at  all  about 
women  ;  they  didn't  know  anything  between  a  god- 


CHILDREN    OF   DESTINY.  263 

dess  and  a  slave.  But  these  modern  fellows,  with 
Will  Shakespeare  at  the  head  of  the  crew,  know  it 
all,  blamed  if  they  don't !  There  is  that  little  Juliet, 
for  example — all  love  and  lies,  and  the  sweetest  little 
creetur  in  the  world !  Now,  what  did  any  of  those 
old  Greek  fellows  know  about  such  a  woman  ?  And 
it's  a  common  enough  type.  For  my  part,  I'm  mor- 
tally afraid  of  the  whole  sex — afraid  of  the  good 
because  they  are  so  good,  and  afraid  of  the  bad 
because  they  are  so  deuced  bad.  And  as  for  their 
conversation,  it's  a  revelation,  from  that  damned 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  up." 

Skelton  could  not  keep  from  laughing  at  the 
mere  mention  of  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  name,  although  he 
was  in  no  laughing  mood. 

"  Shoot  me,"  cried  Bulstrode  with  energy,  "  if  that 
woman  isn't  a  walking  non  sequitur  !  " 

To  this  Skelton  only  answered :  "  Every  human 
being  has  a  natural  and  unalienable  right  to  make 
a  fool  of  himself  or  herself.  But  Mrs.  Shapleigh 
abuses  the  privilege." 

"  Drat  her,"  was  Bulstrode's  only  comment. 

"  How  do  you  account  for  Miss  Shapleigh's  wit 
and  charming  esprit?  "  asked  Skelton,  with  some  ap- 
pearance of  interest. 

"  Because  she's  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  daughter  :  every- 
thing goes  according  to  the  rule  of  contrary  in  this 
world.  I  like  to  hear  that  grey-eyed  Sylvia  talk ; 
there's  nothing  like  it  in  the  books,  it  is  so  spark- 
ling, inconsequent,  and  delightful.  And  she's  got 
something  mightily  like  an  intellect.  Mind,  I  don't 
admit  that  women  have  minds  in  the  sense  of  ab- 
stract intellect,  but  I  say  she  has  got  such  a  vast 


264  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

fund  of  perceptions  mixed  up  with  her  emotions,  that 
it's  twice  as  useful  as  your  mind,  or  mine  either.  Her 
education,  too,  is  better  than  mine,  for  it's  all  expe- 
rience, while  I  am  nothing  but  a  sack  full  of  other 
folks'  ideas." 

After  this  Bulstrode  stopped,  and  presently 
slouched  off  to  bed.  He  was  surprised  that  Skelton 
had  forgiven  him  so  easily,  or  rather  had  been  so 
indifferent  to  his  offense,  but  Skelton  had  a  good 
many  reasons  for  not  falling  out  with  him  then  and 
there. 

After  that  things  went  on  very  quietly  for  a  time. 
Skelton  did  not  even  mention  the  subject  that  he 
had  talked  to  Lewis  about  the  morning  after  the  ball, 
and  Lewis  went  about,  serious  and  sad,  with  a  weight 
upon  his  heart.  The  likeness  between  the  two  came 
out  stronger  every  day.  Just  as  Lewis  suddenly 
seemed  to  become  a  man  and  his  face  lost  its  boyish 
character,  so  Skelton's  face  grew  younger  and  gen- 
tler by  reason  of  the  upspringing  of  a  host  of  strange 
feelings.  It  seems  as  if  the  opening  of  his  heart  to 
Lewis  had  made  a  new  man  of  him.  He  sometimes 
thought  to  himself:  "What  wonderful  vitality  have 
these  old  emotions,  after  all !  It  seems  impossible 
either  to  starve  them  or  strangle  them." 

Sylvia  Shapleigh  appeared  to  him  more  and  more 
captivating,  and  he  realised  after  a  while  that  he  was 
as  much  in  love  with  her  as  he  could  be  with  any 
woman.  But  a  great  many  things  would  have  to  be 
settled  before  he  could  speak  to  Sylvia.  He  reflected 
that  no  man  could  guarantee  to  himself  one  single 
day  of  life,  and,  on  the  whole,  it  was  better  to  have 
matters  arranged  in  his  lifetime.  Then  it  occurred 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  26$ 

to  him  for  the  first  time  that  if  he  could  satisfy  the 
Blairs  that  Lewis  put  an  embargo  upon  their  suppos- 
ititious claims,  there  would  be  no  occasion  for  mak- 
ing it  public.  Of  course,  it  would  have  to  be  known 
to  a  certain  number  of  persons,  but  they  were  chiefly 
legal  people  in  England,  and  England  was  in  those 
days  almost  as  far  off  as  another  planet.  And  it  must 
come  out  at  his  death,  but  that  might  be  many  years 
off,  and  Lewis  might  have  married  into  a  good  fam- 
ily, and  the  gossip  might  have  become  an  old  story, 
and  everything  much  better  than  springing  it  sud- 
denly on  the  community  then.  Skelton  went  quietly 
to  work,  though,  and  accumulated  the  proofs  of 
Lewis's  parentage,  and  found  them  much  more  con- 
clusive than  Bulstrode  had  thought  them  to  be.  He 
was  meanwhile  gradually  making  up  his  mind  to  ask 
Sylvia  Shapleigh  to  marry  him.  Of  course  he  must 
tell  her  all  about  Lewis,  but  he  thought  it  likely  that 
she  knew  as  much  as  he  could  tell  her,  and  if  she 
really  cared  for  him  she  would  be  good  to  the  boy 
for  his  sake — to  say  nothing  of  Lewis's  sake,  for  he 
was  undoubtedly  lovable.  It  was  very  unfortunate; 
he  did  not  know  of  any  man  who  had  a  complica- 
tion so  painful ;  but  still  there  were  ways  out  of  it. 
One  thing  was  certain  :  no  one  would  ever  trouble 
him  with  remarks  on  the  subject,  or  Sylvia  either,  if 
they  should  be  married.  People  might  think  as  they 
pleased,  but  he  and  Sylvia  and  Lewis  could  afford 
to  ignore  gossip  and  idle  tittle-tattle. 

Lewis,  although  obviously  depressed,  took  a  sud- 
denly industrious  turn  about  his  lessons.  He  began 
to  study  so  hard,  that  Bulstrode  was  amazed  and  de- 
lighted. 


266  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

"Why,"  he  cried  one  day,  "you  are  learning  so 
fast  that  you'll  soon  be  as  big  a  knowledge  box  as 
the  British  Museum." 

"I  think  I'd  better  work  hard,  sir,  because  some 
day  I  shall  probably  have  to  earn  my  living,"  an- 
swered Lewis  quite  gravely. 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Bulstrode,  "  you'll  have  the  great- 
est fortune  that  ever  was." 

Lewis  turned  perfectly  crimson,  and  said  nothing. 
Presently  Bulstrode  continued : 

"  It  seems  to  me,  youngster,  that  you  have  been 
going  through  with  a  change  lately." 

"  I  have,  sir,"  answered  Lewis  in  a  low  voice. 
"Mr.  Skelton  tells  me  that  if  I  will  acknowledge 
that — that — I  am  not  Thomas  Pryor's  son  he  will 
give  me  a  fortune." 

"  Showed  you  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  to 
tempt  you,  eh  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  something  like  it." 

"And  you  don't  want  *em?" 

"  Not  at  the  price  I  have  to  pay  for  them,  sir." 

"  But  I  don't  believe  Skelton  can  help  himself,  or 
you  either,  from  your  having  that  fortune.  I  think 
he  wants  to  marry  Miss  Sylvia  Shapleigh ;  and  if  he 
dies,  or  marries,  his  wife's  money  either  goes  to 
you  or  to  the  Blairs;  and  I  believe  the  poor 
dead  woman  would  turn  over  in  her  grave  if  she 
thought  anybody  that  Skelton  hates  like  the  Blairs 
would  get  it." 

"  But  wouldn't  she  hate  for  me  to  get  it  ? "  asked 
Lewis. 

"  Well  " — here  Bulstrode  began  to  rub  his  shaggy 
head — "  not  so  much  as  the  Blairs.  You  see,  you  are 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY.  267 

innocent  yourself ;  nobody  would  feel  any  grudge 
against  you ;  it  all  happened  before  Skelton  married 
her;  and  Mrs.  Skelton  was  so  desperately  fond  of 
Skelton,  that  she  would  be  very  likely  to  be  tolerant 
towards  any  innocent  creature  that  he  loved.  Queer 
subjects  women  are." 

"  If  Mr.  Skelton  thinks  I  am  going  to  give  up 
without  a  fight,  he's  very  much  mistaken  ! "  cried 
Lewis  suddenly. 

Bulstrode  clapped  him  on  the  back  and  roared 
out,  "  Good  for  you,  boy  !  " 

Some  days  after  that  Skelton  sent  for  Lewis  into 
the  library.  Lewis  went  with  a  beating  heart.  There 
had  not  been  the  slightest  change  in  their  relations 
since  that  morning  in  the  library,  but  it  had  been 
wholly  Lewis's  own  doing.  He  maintained  a  reserve 
towards  Skelton  that  was  unbroken.  Much  as  he 
loved  the  boy,  Skelton  could  not  bring  himself  to 
become  a  supplicant,  as  it  were,  for  his  affections ; 
and  so,  although  each  watched  the  other,  and  they 
lived  under  the  same  roof,  there  was  a  grim  reserve 
between  them. 

When  he  reached  the  library,  Skelton  had  before 
him  a  sheet  of  paper  with  a  translation  on  it. 

"  Bulstrode  tells  me,"  said  Skelton,  pointing  to  a 
chair  for  Lewis  to  sit  down,  "  that  you  did  this  out 
of  Horace  without  any  assistance.  It  isn't  perfect, 
of  course — nobody  translates  old  Horace  perfectly — 
but  it  is  extraordinarily  good  for  a  fellow  of  your 
age.  And  Bulstrode  also  gives  most  gratifying  re- 
ports of  your  progress  in  all  your  studies." 

Lewis's  heart  beat  faster  still.  Here  was  a  chance 
to  let  Skelton  know  that  he  had  not  in  the  least 


268  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

wavered  from  his  determination  not  to  take  the 
money  in  exchange  for  his  name. 

"  I — I — feel  that  I  ought  to  study  very  hard,  so 
that  I  can — some  day — when  I'm  a  man — make  my 
own  living,  sir,"  he  said,  blushing  very  much. 

"Ah!"  replied  Skelton,  with  an  air  of  calm  in- 
quiry. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  responded  Lewis,  plucking  up  his 
courage  a  little. 

Skelton  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes,  as  he 
had  done  very  often  of  late,  and  was  met  by  a  daunt- 
less look.  Ah,  where  was  there  another  fifteen-year- 
old  boy  who  showed  such  a  nice  sense  of  honour,  such 
heroic  firmness  in  withstanding  temptation  ?  He 
expressed  something  of  this  in  his  words,  at  which 
the  boy's  face  hardened,  and  his  heart  hardened 
too. 

"  I  only  ask,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that  I  shall  be  let 
alone  until  I  am  twenty-one.  When  I  am  a  man  I 
shall  know  how  to  stand  upon  my  rights." 

"I  think,  Lewis,"  said  Skelton  calmly,  "that  your 
reason  is  already  convinced.  You  no  longer  believe 
yourself  to  be  the  son  of  Thomas  Pryor,  yet  you  talk 
about  making  a  fight  for  it." 

Lewis  made  no  reply.  He  was  no  match  for  Skel- 
ton, and  he  knew  it;  but  his  determination  was  per- 
fectly unchanged. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  began  Skelton  after  a  moment, 
leaning  forward  in  his  chair ;  "  you  are  rather  an 
uncommon  boy."  Skelton,  as  he  said  this,  smiled 
slightly,  remembering  that  Lewis  could  scarcely  fail 
to  be  unlike  most  boys.  "  I  shall  talk  to  you  as  if 
you  were  a  man,  instead  of  a  boy,  and  perhaps  you 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  269 

will  understand  why  it  is  that  I  intend  to  do  you 
right  in  the  face  of  the  world." 

"  To  do  me  wrong,"  said  Lewis  under  his  breath. 

Skelton  pretended  not  to  hear.  He  then  care- 
fully and  in  detail  went  over  the  whole  thing  with 
Lewis,  who  happened  to  know  all  about  it  through 
Bulstrode.  The  only  answer  Skelton  got  out  of  the 
boy  was  a  dogged 

"  I  don't  want  it  at  the  price  I  have  to  pay  for  it. 
You  wouldn't  want  to  exchange  your  respectability 
for  anything/' 

"  But  have  I  no  claim  upon  you,  Lewis  ? "  asked 
Skelton.  His  tone  was  hard  to  resist.  It  conveyed 
an  appeal  as  well  as  a  right ;  but  Lewis  resisted. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said  in  a  distressed  voice  ; 
"  all  I  know  is  that  I  believe  that  I  am  Lewis  Pryor, 
and  I  want  to  stay  Lewis  Pryor ;  and  if — if — you  do 
as  you  say,  you  may  make  me  a  rich  man  some  day, 
but  you  make  me  the  inferior  of  everybody.  I  know 
it;  I've  talked  it  out  with  Mr.  Bulstrode." 

"  And  what  did  Bulstrode  say?"  asked  Skelton, 
his  face  darkening.  But  Lewis  was  wary  beyond  his 
years. 

"I'd  rather  not  tell,  sir;  Mr.  Bulstrode  wouldn't 
like  it." 

"  I'm  sure  he  wouldn't  like  it,"  answered  Skelton 
sardonically,  "the  ungrateful  old  good-for-nothing! 
But  I  can  guess  easily  enough  what  he  has  been 
up  to." 

Lewis  felt  that  he  was  playing  a  losing  game,  but 
he  only  repeated : 

"  The  Blairs  will  get  that  money." 

Skelton  had  all  along  spoken  in  a  quiet,  conven- 
18 


270  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

tional  tone,  but  at  this  he  uttered  a  slight  exclama- 
tion, and  ground  his  teeth  with  silent  fury.  The 
boy's  obstinacy  was  intolerable  to  a  man  accustomed 
to  make  his  will  the  law.  Of  course,  he  could  do  as 
he  pleased  about  it;  he  could  prove  the  whole  thing 
to-morrow  morning,  if  he  liked,  but  he  did  not  want 
to  be  opposed  by  the  person  he  wished  to  benefit ; 
and  besides,  he  loved  the  boy  well,  and  contradiction 
from  him  was  therefore  doubly  hard. 

Lewis  got  up  to  go  out.  As  he  passed,  rather  a 
grim  smile  came  into  Skelton's  face.  He  saw  his 
own  look  of  firm  determination  upon  the  boy's  thin- 
lipped,  eloquent  mouth,  and  in  his  dark  eyes.  Lewis 
was  growing  more  like  him  every  day.  Poor  little 
fool !  Talk  about  proving  himself  to  be  the  son  of 
that  lanky,  loose-jointed  Thomas  Pryor!  It  was 
ridiculous. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

SKELTON  had  cold  fits  and  hot  fits  as  regarded 
Sylvia.  At  first  he  considered  his  cold  fit  as  his 
abnormal  condition,  and  the  hot  fit  as  an  agreeable 
form  of  insanity.  But  he  soon  changed  his  opinion. 
He  was  beginning,  late  in  life,  to  live  through  what 
other  men  are  generally  done  with  by  that  time.  In 
Sylvia's  society  he  felt  always  an  exquisite  sense  of 
well-being  that  he  could  not  remember  ever  to  have 
felt  before  with  any  human  being  except  in  a  certain 
way  with  Lewis.  When  the  boy  had  been  younger 
Skelton  recalled,  that  to  watch  him  at  play,  or  at  his 
work,  had  always  given  him  strange  delight — a  de- 
light unique  of  its  kind,  and  more  nearly  resembling 
happiness  than  anything  he  had  ever  known.  But 
looking  back  calmly  upon  his  life,  he  could  not  re- 
member that  he  had  ever  known  apart  from  Sylvia 
and  Lewis  that  joyous  sense  of  existence  which  is 
happiness.  He  remembered  that  in  his  early  days 
he  had  felt  a  sense  of  triumph  when  the  public — his 
public — caught  at  the  idea  of  his  future  greatness. 
He  knew  well  enough  a  certain  refined  and  elevated 
pleasure  in  purely  intellectual  pursuits.  But  happi- 
ness is  the  child  of  the  affections,  and  Skelton's  af- 
fections had  fared  rather  badly.  He  recollected  his 

(270 


2/2 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


early  passion  for  Elizabeth  Armistead  with  hatred. 
She  had  given  him  fierce  joys  and  sharp  pain,  but  that 
was  far  removed  from  happiness.  His  marriage  had 
been  from  a  curious  mixture  of  motives,  and  he  dared 
not  admit  to  himself  how  little  love  had  had  to  do 
with  it ;  he  had  felt  tenderness  and  extreme  gratitude 
to  his  wife,  but  happiness  had  still  eluded  him.  Now, 
however,  he  realised  with  keen  pleasure  that,  after  all, 
he  was  net  done  with  life  and  youth — he  had  not  yet 
come  down  to  the  dregs  and  heel  taps  of  existence. 
He  had  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  a  life 
of  pleasure  and  of  a  life  of  intellect,  and  he  was  tired 
of  both.  True  it  was,  that  books  still  had  a  fatal 
fascination  for  him  ;  that  passion  for  reading  and  for 
making  his  mind  drunk  at  the  fountain  of  other  men's 
knowledge  was  ineradicable.  But  he  had  at  last  come 
to  crave  something  else.  Like  all  men  who  lead  a 
one-sided  life  with  a  two-sided  nature,  he  was  seized 
with  a  profound  disgust,  and  would  have  welcomed 
almost  any  change.  Never  had  he  understood  the 
futility  of  a  normal  human  being  trying  to  live  on 
ideas  alone  until  he  returned  to  Deerchase.  As  soon 
as  he  had  eliminated  everything  from  his  life  except 
books  and  intellectual  effort,  he  began  to  find  books 
more  of  an  anodyne  and  work  more  of  a  hopeless  ef- 
fort than  ever.  When  he  was  quite  ready  for  his  life 
work,  when  he  had  prepared  himself,  his  house,  his 
tools,  in  perfection  for  that  work,  a  deadly  paralysis 
had  seized  upon  him,  a  frightful  fear  of  failure. 
Then,  following  this,  he  suddenly  found  an  unsus- 
pected source  of  pleasure — the  society  of  a  woman. 
He  could  have  as  much  or  as  little  of  that  society 
as  he  wanted,  even  if  he  married  her,  for  it  is  the 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


273 


privilege  of  the  rich  to  have  privacy  and  independ- 
ence in  every  relation  of  life.  It  was  true  he  would 
have  to  give  up  much  money,  which  most  men  are 
unequal  to  parting  with,  to  marry  her.  But  he  would 
give  it  up  to  Lewis,  a  creature  intensely  loved.  Still, 
it  would  be  a  curtailment  of  his  power,  for  money  is 
power. 

At  first  the  consequences  seemed  enormous  ;  but 
they  assumed  much  smaller  proportions  as  he  investi- 
gated them.  He  would  not  be  able  to  buy  thousands 
of  books,  as  he  had  done,  but  he  suspected,  with  a 
kind  of  shame,  that  he  had  too  many  books  already. 
He  would  no  longer  be  able  to  leave  orders  in  blank 
with  the  great  collectors  in  London,  and  Paris,  and 
Rome  to  buy  him  rare  editions,  but  he  remembered 
with  disgust  that  these  orders  had  been  carried  out 
rather  with  a  view  of  getting  his  money  than  to  in- 
creasing the  value  of  his  collection.  He  had  caught 
two  of  his  agents  in  the  act  of  palming  off  spurious 
volumes  upon  him,  and  had  informed  them  of  his 
discovery  and  had  given  them  no  more  orders.  As 
for  buying  pictures  and  bric-a-brac,  that  taste  was 
not  then  developed  in  this  country.  Hundreds  of 
ways  of  spending  money,  well  known  in  the  latter 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  were  quite  unknown 
in  the  first  half.  Skelton  found  that  in  giving  up  his 
wife's  fortune  he  was  giving  up  much  in  the  abstract 
and  but  little  in  the  concrete.  And  then  came  his 
interview  with  Lewis. 

The  boy's  unhappy  face,  though,  haunted  him. 
Skelton  had  not  once  seen  him  smile  since  that  night 
of  the  ball.  He  went  about  solemnly,  his  black  eyes, 
that  were  usually  full  of  light,  sombre  and  distressed, 


2/4 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


and  Service  was  never  allowed  out  of  his  sight.  He 
kept  closely  to  Deerchase,  and  did  not  even  go  to  Bel- 
field  until  Sylvia  wrote  him  a  note  gently  chiding  him. 
As  for  Sylvia,  whatever  she  felt  for  Skelton,  she  had 
adopted  the  general  belief  that  he  would  never  marry 
at  all.  She  felt  a  kind  of  resentment  towards  him, 
for,  after  comparing  him  with  the  other  men  she 
knew,  she  acknowledged  promptly  to  herself  that 
she  could  never  marry  any  of  those  other  men. 
Skelton  had  done  her  that  ill  turn ;  he  had  shown 
her  so  conclusively  the  charm  of  a  man  with  every 
advantage  of  birth,  breeding,  intellect,  knowledge 
of  the  world,  and,  above  all,  his  subtile  personal 
charm,  that  other  men  wearied  her.  Even  Blair,  who 
found  women  usually  responsive  to  him,  discovered 
that  Sylvia  was  rather  bored  with  him.  She  had 
tasted  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  and  was  neither 
better  nor  happier  for  it.  She  was  acute  enough  to 
see  that  her  society  gave  Skelton  more  pleasure  than 
any  other  woman's,  but  then  that  was  easily  under- 
stood. Provincials  are  generally  uninterestingly 
alike.  Sylvia  Shapleigh  happened  to  be  a  little  dif- 
ferent from  the  rest.  In  her  own  family  she  was 
singularly  lonely.  Her  father  was  the  conventional 
good  father,  and  both  of  her  parents  were  proud  of 
her.  But  she  was  a  being  different  from  any  in  their 
experience.  Old  Tom  Shapleigh  boasted  of  her  spirit, 
and  said  he  believed  Sylvia  was  waiting  to  marry  the 
President  of  the  United  States;  but  he  was  vexed 
that  she  was  getting  out  of  her  twenties  so  fast  with- 
out making  a  good  match,  and  every  offer  she  had 
always  provoked  a  quarrel  between  father  and 
daughter.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  considered  that  Sylvia's 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


275 


obstinacy  in  that  respect  was  expressly  meant  as  a 
defiance  of  maternal  authority,  and  continually  re- 
proached her  that  she  would  yet  bring  her  mother's 
grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave  because  she 
wouldn't  accept  any  offer  made  to  her. 

Lewis  Pryor  was  not  more  lonely  than  Sylvia 
Shapleigh,  although,  womanlike,  she  showed  more 
fortitude  and  was  more  uncomplaining  about  it.  But 
on  account  of  that  solitariness  common  to  both  of 
them,  the  imaginative  woman  and  the  half-developed 
boy  had  a  sympathy  for  each  other — an  odd,  sweet 
community  of  thought.  Sylvia  had  heard  all  the 
talk  floating  about  the  county  regarding  Lewis 
Pryor,  and  had  observed  the  coldness  with  which  the 
world,  which  smiled  so  benignly  on  Skelton,  frowned 
on  the  innocent  boy ;  but,  more  just  as  well  as  more 
generous  than  the  sodden  world,  his  misfortune  was 
only  another  reason  why  she  should  be  kind  to  him. 

The  summer  passed  slowly  to  most  of  them :  to 
Blair,  impatiently  awaiting  news  from  England ;  to 
his  wife,  vexed  with  him  for  his  action  ;  to  Sylvia, 
who  began  to  feel  a  painful  sense  of  disappointment 
and  narrowness  and  emptiness  in  existence  ;  to  Lewis, 
prematurely  burdened  with  the  problems  of  life;  to 
all,  except  Skelton.  Indeed,  time  had  a  way  of  fly- 
ing frightfully  fast  with  him,  and  he  barely  recov- 
ered the  shock  and  surprise  of  one  birthday  before 
another  was  precipitated  on  him.  And  yet  he  was 
going  about  that  book  as  if  the  ages  were  his  !  He 
had  quite  given  up  his  racing  affairs  to  Miles  Light- 
foot,  and  was  apparently  devoting  himself  to  some 
abstruse  studies  in  his  library.  So  he  was — but 
Sylvia  Shapleigh  was  the  subject. 


276 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


Although  a  very  arrogant  and  confident  man, 
Skelton  was  too  clear-headed  not  to  consider  the 
possibility  that  Sylvia  might  not  marry  him,  but  it 
was  always  difficult  for  him  to  comprehend  that  he 
could  not  have  his  own  way  about  anything  he  de- 
sired. 

He  meant,  however,  to  be  very  prudent.  He 
would  bring  all  of  his  finesse  and  worldly  wisdom  to 
bear,  and  he  would  not  be  outwitted  by  any  woman. 
So  thought  Samson  of  old. 

Skelton  did  not  go  to  Belfield  very  often,  but  in 
one  way  and  another  he  saw  Sylvia  pretty  constantly. 
He  never  could  quite  make  out  the  faint  resentment 
in  her  manner  to  him.  But  the  truth,  from  Sylvia's 
point  of  view,  was,  that  he  had  come  into  her  life  and 
disorganised  it,  and  made  her  dissatisfied  with  what 
before  had  satisfied  her,  and  had  shown  her  other 
ideals  and  standards  which  were  beyond  her  reach ; 
and,  on  the  whole,  Sylvia  reckoned  Skelton  among 
the  enemies  of  her  peace. 

In  August,  Mrs.  Shapleigh  usually  made  her 
hegira  to  the  Springs.  One  of  Sylvia's  crimes  in  her 
mother's  eyes  was  that  she  was  not  always  madly 
anxious  to  be  off  on  this  annual  jaunt.  But  this  year 
nobody  could  complain  that  Sylvia  was  not  ready 
enough  to  go.  So  eager  was  she  for  a  change,  that 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  declared  Sylvia  would  go  off  without 
a  rag  to  her  back  if  it  were  not  for  a  mother's  devo- 
tion. Lewis  Pryor  dreaded  her  going,  and  he  seemed 
really  the  only  person  whom  Sylvia  regretted.  But 
Skelton  found  himself  secretly  very  much  dissatisfied 
with  the  idea  that  Sylvia  should  go  away. 

One  hot  August  afternoon,  after  having  seen  the 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  277 

great  Belfield  carriage  drive  out  of  the  lane  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  and  seeing  Sylvia's  white  figure 
fluttering  about  on  the  river  shore,  Skelton  concluded 
that  he  would  walk  across  the  bridge  and  call  on 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  which  would  result,  of 
course,  in  his  seeing  only  Sylvia. 

The  day  had  been  sultry,  and  not  a  breath  stirred 
the  giant  trees  around  Deerchase.  There  were 
masses  of  coppery  clouds  in  the  west,  and,  al- 
though the  sun  blazed  redly,  the  river  was  dark. 
Skelton  predicted  a  thunderstorm  as  he  crossed  the 
bridge. 

Down  by  the  water  was  Sylvia,  with  a  rustic  hat 
tied  under  her  chin. 

"I  am  going  all  over  the  place  for  the  last  time," 
she  said  to  Skelton  when  he  came  up.  "  Day  after 
to-morrow  we  start — we  can't  make  the  journey  in 
less  than  eight  days — and  oh,  I  shall  be  so  glad  to 
be  on  the  road  !  " 

It  rather  disconcerted  Skelton  that  Sylvia,  who 
seemed  so  different  from  most  women,  should  be  so 
anxious  after  what  seemed  to  him  a  commonplace 
pleasure.  He  hated  watering  places  himself. 

"  It  will  be  very  gay,  no  doubt,"  he  answered. 
"  But  it  is  such  an  immense  effort  for  so  little !  " 

"Yes,"  agreed  Sylvia,  walking  slowly  along  the 
edge  of  the  river  and  looking  absently  down  towards 
Lone  Point ;  "  but  there  is  a  dreadful  stagnation 
here.  I  wake  up  every  morning  at  the  same  moment 
— to  see  the  same  things — to  meet  the  same  people. 
Ah,  how  tired  I  am  of  it  all !  " 

This  was  a  rare  complaint  for  women  to  make  in 
those  days,  when  a  taste  for  travelling  was  thought 


278  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

depraved.  Skelton  observed  her  closely,  and  saw 
signs  of  an  inward  restlessness. 

"And  will  you  be  satisfied  at  the  Springs?"  he 
asked,  smiling. 

"  Of  course  not,"  answered  Sylvia  airily.  "  I  shall 
be  no  better  satisfied  than  at  Belfield  ;  but  it  will  be 
a  change.  Ah,  Mr.  Skelton,  you  don't  know  what  it 
is  to  be  caged  !  " 

Skelton  thought  he  understood  her. 

"  Some  day  you  will  see  the  world,"  he  said,  "  and 
then  you  will  lose  all  of  your  illusions.  I  am  satis- 
fied at  Deerchase,  because  I  know  it  is  as  good  a  spot 
as  any  in  the  world." 

"  Do  you  think  I  will  ever  see  the  world  ?  "  said 
Sylvia.  "Well,  I  don't  think  I  will.  I  want  it  too 
much.  We  never  get  what  we  want  very,  very 
much." 

"Yes,  we  do,"  replied  Skelton,  looking  skyward. 
"We  want  rain  very,  very  much,  and  we  will  get  it 
very  soon." 

"  If  you  are  afraid  of  being  soaked,"  said  Sylvia, 
with  a  kind  of  soft  insolence,  "you  had  better  go 
home." 

Skelton  perceived  that  she  was  trying  to  vex  him. 
"  No,  I  sha'n't  go  home  yet  a  while ;  and  if  a  storm 
comes  up,  I  shall  stay  with  you,  as  I  know  your  father 
and  mother  are  away.  I  saw  the  carriage  drive  out 
of  the  lane  before  I  started." 

"  Yet  you  asked  very  politely  if  papa  and  mamma 
were  at  home  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  did.  Politeness  is  a  necessity  when 
one  is  carrying  out  a  deception." 

Sylvia  turned  a  rosy  colour,  more  with  anger  than 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


2/9 


with  pleasure.  Skelton  was  amusing  himself  at  her 
expense.  Latterly  he  had  fallen  into  a  half-banter- 
ing love-making  with  her  that  was  infuriating.  Syl- 
via shut  her  lips,  threw  back  her  head,  and  uncon- 
sciously quickened  her  walk.  Skelton,  without  mak- 
ing the  slightest  attempt  at  conversation,  walked  by 
her  side.  They  were  following  the  indentations  of 
the  river  towards  the  bridge.  The  sky  lowered,  and 
presently  a  few  large  drops  of  rain  fell.  Sylvia 
started  and  turned  a  little  pale.  She  was  afraid  of 
storms,  and  already  the  rumbling  of  thunder  was 
heard. 

"  I  must  fly  home !  "  she  cried.  "  Good-bye,"  and 
gave  him  her  hand. 

At  that  moment  the  air  suddenly  turned  black, 
and  there  was  a  blinding  flash  of  light,  a  sudden  roar 
of  thunder,  and  all  at  once  a  great  golden  willow  not 
fifty  yards  from  where  they  stood  seemed  to  shrivel 
before  their  eyes  as  a  bolt  struck  it.  A  fearful  still- 
ness hung  over  the  land,  although  the  thunder  bel- 
lowed overhead.  Sylvia  trembled,  and  clung  to 
Skelton's  sinewy  brown  hand. 

"  Don't  go  !  "  she  said  piteously. 

In  another  instant  she  felt  herself  rushed  along 
towards  the  house.  She  was  breathless,  and  the 
wind,  which  had  suddenly  risen,  blew  the  brim  of  her 
large  hat  over  her  eyes,  but  just  as  the  rain  swept 
down  in  a  torrent  she  found  herself  in  the  Belfield 
hall,  panting  and  frightened,  but  safe. 

"  Now,"  said  Skelton  coldly  and  with  malicious 
satisfaction,  "  good-bye." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  Sylvia,  aghast.  "  In 
this  rain  ? " 


2go  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

"  The  rain  is  nothing,"  replied  Skelton,  buttoning 
up  his  coat.  He  was  vexed  with  her,  and  was  sin- 
cere in  meaning  to  go  home. 

"  But — but — you  mustn't  go,"  said  Sylvia,  looking 
at  him  with  terrified  eyes. 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  be  alone  ?  I  will  call  the 
servants  for  you." 

"Yes,  I  am  afraid,"  cried  Sylvia  desperately; 
"  I  am  afraid  for  you."  She  paused  suddenly.  In 
her  nervousness  and  tremor  and  agitation  she 
scarcely  knew  what  she  was  saying ;  the  roar  of  the 
rattling  thunder  almost  drowned  her  voice ;  it  died 
in  her  throat,  and  her  heart  fluttered  wildly  as  Skel- 
ton suddenly  seized  her  hand. 

"  Are  you  afraid  for  me,  dear  Sylvia  ? "  he  asked. 

Something  compelling  in  Skelton's  gaze  forced 
Sylvia  to  raise  her  eyes  to  his,  which  were  blacker, 
more  lustrous,  than  she  had  ever  seen  them.  She 
made  no  answer,  but  her  own  eyes  shone  with  a  deep, 
green  light  that  was  enchanting.  All  at  once  the 
whole  world  outside  of  Skelton  seemed  to  slip  out 
of  sight.  But  Skelton  felt  the  most  delicious  ease 
and  sense  of  reality.  That  one  glance  revealed  her 
whole  soul  to  him.  Here  was  one  creature  who 
could  love  him;  here  was  that  soft,  human  fondness 
of  which  he  had  known  but  little  in  his  life ;  and  he 
knew  well  enough  that  way  lay  happiness.  He  cast 
prudence  and  forethought  and  finesse  to  the  winds. 
The  inevitable  hour  had  come  to  him  as  to  other 
men.  He  drew  her  close  to  him,  and  took  the  great 
wet  hat  off  her  head  and  kissed  her  passionately  a 
dozen  times,  saying  some  incoherent  words,  which 
nevertheless  both  he  and  Sylvia  understood  well 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  2$I 

enough.  All  at  once  an  ineffable  tenderness  had 
possessed  him ;  life  took  on  another  hue.  The  beauty 
of  the  present  hour  might  be  fleeting,  but  at  least  it 
was  well  to  have  known  it  even  for  a  moment. 

The  lightning  continued  to  flash  constantly  in  the 
large,  dark  hall,  and  the  reverberation  of  the  thun- 
der was  deafening,  but  it  no  longer  had  the  power  to 
alarm  Sylvia ;  it  is  true  it  excited  her  and  increased 
the  tremor  of  her  nerves,  and  made  her  quite  uncon- 
sciously cling  closely  to  Skelton,  but  it  seemed  to 
her  as  if  they  were  together  under  the  most  beautiful 
sky  and  in  the  serenest  air. 

Presently  thought  returned  to  Skelton.  Sylvia 
was  now  in  the  mood  in  which  she  could  refuse  him 
nothing ;  she  had  acknowledged  that  she  loved 
him;  now  was  the  time  to  speak  for  Lewis,  for 
the  one  passion  had  by  no  means  swallowed  up  the 
other. 

"  Sylvia,"  said  he  in  his  most  eloquent  tones,  and 
looking  at  her  with  his  soul  in  his  eyes,  "  could  you 
forgive  much  in  the  past  life  of  the  man  you  loved  ? 
Think  well  before  you  answer,  because  some  women 
who  love  much  cannot  forgive  anything." 

Sylvia  turned  very  pale ;  she  knew  well  enough 
what  he  meant ;  she  knew  he  was  making  a  plea  for 
Lewis  Pryor. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  tremulous  pause,  "  I  could 
forgive  much  in  the  past.  What  is  past  is  no  injury 
to  me  ;  but  I  don't  think  I  could  be  forgiving  for  any 
injury  to  me" 

She  had  withdrawn  a  little  from  him,  and  her  last 
words  were  spoken  quite  firmly  and  clearly  and  with 
unflinching  eyes.  Sylvia  had  a  spirit  of  her  own, 


282  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

and  that  was  a  time  for  plain  speaking.  She  did  not 
lose  in  Skelton's  esteem  by  her  boldness. 

"  Then  we  are  agreed,"  answered  Skelton  with 
equal  boldness;  "for  I  shall  have  no  forgiveness  to 
ask  in  the  future.  I  shall  have  to  ask  forgiveness 
for  something  in  the  past — something  I  cannot  tell 
you  now.  I  will  write  it  to  you.  But  I  will  say  this : 
I  believe  you  to  be  the  most  magnanimous  woman  in 
the  world,  and  for  that,  partly,  I  love  you." 

There  is  a  common  delusion  that  all  men  make 
love  alike.  Never  was  there  a  greater  mistake. 
There  is  no  one  particular  in  which  a  man  of  sense 
is  more  strongly  differentiated  from  a  fool  than  in 
his  love-making.  Skelton  had  the  most  exquisite 
tact  in  the  world.  He  had  to  admit  to  his  own 
wrongdoing,  but  he  did  it  so  adroitly  that  he  easily 
won  forgiveness.  He  had  to  make  terms  for  Lewis, 
and  he  had  to  tell  Sylvia  that  he  could  not  make  her 
a  very  rich  woman ;  but  he  made  the  one  appear  the 
spontaneous  act  of  Sylvia's  generosity,  and  the  other 
was  the  most  powerful  proof  of  his  affection  for  her. 
So  can  a  man  of  brains  wrest  disadvantage  to  his 
advantage. 

Sylvia  heard  him  through,  making  occasionally 
little  faint  stands  against  him  that  never  amounted 
to  anything.  There  was  already  treason  in  the  cit- 
adel, and  all  she  wanted  was  a  chance  to  surrender. 
Skelton  knew  all  the  transformations  of  the  cunning 
passion  called  love,  and  Sylvia's  flutterings  were  those 
of  a  bird  in  the  snare  of  the  fowler. 

An  hour  had  passed  since  the  storm  had  risen,  and 
it  was  now  dying  away  as  rapidly  as  it  had  come  up. 
Sylvia  slipped  from  Skelton  and  went  and  stood  by  a 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY.  283 

window  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall.  The  exalta- 
tion was  too  keen ;  she  craved  a  moment's  respite 
from  the  torrent  of  her  own  happiness.  When  Skel- 
ton  joined  her  and  clasped  her  hand,  both  of  them 
were  calmer.  They  experienced  the  serener  joy  of 
thinking  and  talking  over  their  happiness,  instead  of 
being  engulfed  in  the  tempest  of  feeling. 

"  But  do  you  know,  dear  Sylvia,"  said  Skelton, 
after  a  while,  "  that  in  marrying  me  you  will  not  be 
marrying  the  richest  man  in  Virginia  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  marrying  the  finest  man  in  Virginia, 
though,"  answered  Sylvia,  with  a  pretty  air  of 
haughty  confidence. 

"  But  still  we  sha'n't  starve.  We  shall  have  Deer- 
chase." 

"  I  always  liked  Deerchase  better  than  any  place 
in  the  world." 

"And  you  will  have  a  middle-aged  husband." 

"  I  like  middle  age." 

"  Who  has  a  bad  habit  of  reading  more  hours  than 
he  ought  to." 

"  Then  I  shall  be  rid  of  him  much  of  the  time. 
However,  Lewis  and  I  will  manage  to  get  on  very 
well  without  you." 

Skelton  at  that  clasped  her  in  his  arms  with  real 
rapture.  It  was  the  one  thing  necessary  to  his  hap- 
piness— the  one  condition  he  would  exact  of  any 
woman — that  Lewis  should  have  what  Skelton  con- 
sidered his  rights.  Triumph  filled  his  heart.  With 
that  charming,  spirited  woman  to  help  him,  the  little 
world  around  them  would  be  forced  to  be  on  its  good 
behaviour  to  Lewis.  Sylvia,  who  was  the  most  acute 
of  women,  saw  in  an  instant  that  in  this  boy  she  had 


284  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

the  most  powerful  hold  on  Skelton.  Justice,  and 
generosity,  and  inclination  all  urged  her  to  be  kind 
to  the  boy ;  but  love,  which  is  stronger  than  all, 
showed  her  that  therein  lay  the  secret  of  enormous 
power  over  Skelton. 

But  after  a  moment  Sylvia  said  something  which 
suddenly  filled  Skelton's  soul  with  melancholy: 

"  Some  day — when  the  great  book  is  written — you 
will  be  the  most  famous  man  in  the  country,  and  I 
shall  be  the  proudest  woman,"  she  said  with  a  little 
vain,  proud  air. 

The  light  died  out  of  Skelton's  eyes,  and  he  could 
hardly  resist  a  movement  of  impatience.  Every- 
where, even  in  his  most  sacred  love,  he  was  pur- 
sued by  this  phantom  of  what  he  was  to  do. 

Sylvia  presently  sat  down,  and  Skelton,  drawing 
his  chair  near  her,  hung  over  her  fondly.  He  knew 
perfectly  well  how  to  make  her  happy.  He  expressed 
in  a  hundred  delicate  ways  the  tenderness  he  felt  for 
her;  while  Sylvia — proud  Sylvia — was  so  meek  and 
sweet  that  he  scarcely  knew  her ;  so  forgiving,  so 
trustful.  After  all,  thought  Skelton,  there  was  a 
philosophy  better  than  that  to  be  found  in  the 
books. 

The  storm  was  now  over,  and  suddenly  a  mocking- 
bird outside  the  window  burst  into  a  heavenly  song. 
Skelton  went  to  the  wide  hall  doors  and  threw  them 
open.  The  sinking  sun  was  shining  upon  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth.  The  trees,  the  grass,  the 
shrubbery  were  diamonded  with  drops  and  sparkling 
brilliantly ;  the  river  ran  joyously  ;  the  damp,  sweet- 
scented  air  had  a  delicious  freshness  ;  all  Nature  was 
refreshed  and  glad.  Skelton  felt  that  it  was  like  his 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


285 


own  life — a  sunset  calm  after  a  storm.  He  felt  not 
only  a  happier  man  than  he  had  been  for  many  years, 
but  a  better  man. 

Half  an  hour  after,  when  Skelton  and  Sylvia  were 
sitting  together  in  the  cool,  dark  drawing-room,  the 
door  suddenly  opened,  and  Mrs.  Shapleigh  sailed  in, 
followed  by  old  Tom.  The  sight  that  met  their  eyes 
might  well  paralyse  them — Skelton,  with  his  arm  on 
Sylvia's  chair,  his  dark  head  almost  resting  on  her 
bright  hair ;  her  hand  was  raised  to  his  lips.  Being 
a  self-possessed  lover,  he  did  not  commit  the  gaucherie 
of  dropping  her  hand,  but  held  on  to  it  firmly,  say- 
ing coolly : 

"  Fairly  caught,  we  are,  Sylvia." 

Mrs.  Shapleigh  uttered  a  faint  shriek,  while  old 
Tom  raised  his  bristling  eyebrows  up  to  the  fringe 
of  grey  hair  over  his  forehead. 

Mrs.  Shapleigh  sank  down,  overcome  by  astonish- 
ment. Old  Tom  walked  up  to  Skelton,  and  said, 
with  a  broad  grin  : 

"  So  you  have  bamboozled  my  girl  ?  " 

"  Completely,"  answered  Skelton. 

Sylvia  at  that  got  up  and  skurried  out  of  the 
room,  with  Mrs.  Shapleigh  after  her. 

Mr.  Shapleigh  and  his  whilom  ward  faced  each 
other. 

"  The  game's  up,"  was  old  Tom's  remark. 

"Apparently,"  answered  Skelton,  smiling;  "and, 
as  the  consent  of  the  father  is  usually  asked,  I  am 
quite  willing  to  ask  it  now." 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  matters  much  in  any  case — 
least  of  all  in  this — because  my  daughter  Sylvia  has 
a  spirit  that  I  have  never  seen  equalled  in  man  or 
19 


286  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

woman.  I  have  sometimes  seen  horses  who  had  it. 
That's  your  prospect,  Skelton." 

"  I'll  risk  it  gladly,"  answered  Skelton,  who  knew 
well  how  to  play  the  dauntless  lover. 

"  And  she  has  given  in  to  you — the  only  creature, 
by  Jove !  she  ever  did  give  in  to.  But,  Skelton, 
there's  one  thing — " 

Skelton  knew  exactly  what  was  coming. 

"  There  is  that  boy,  Lewis  Pryor." 

"  Miss  Shapleigh  and  I  have  agreed  upon  that," 
replied  Skelton  in  a  tone  which  put  a  stop  to  any 
further  discussion.  "  If  she  is  satisfied,  nobody  else 
can  complain." 

"  Not  even  her  parents  ? " 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  we  know  each  other 
too  well  to  beat  about  the  bush.  You  know  your 
daughter  will  marry  me  if  she  says  she  will.  You 
haven't  just  known  her  yesterday." 

"  She  will,  by  the  powers  of  heaven  !  "  burst  out 
Mr.  Shapleigh ;  "  and  so,  I  suppose,  as  you  say,  it  is 
hardly  worth  while  to  talk  about  it.  But,  for  the 
sake  of  the  thing,  here's  my  hand  and  my  consent 
with  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Skelton,  with  grim  polite- 
ness, and  taking  his  hat  at  the  same  time. 

He  went  back  to  Deerchase  in  a  sort  of  exalta- 
tion not  altogether  free  from  melancholy.  He  had 
a  feeling  that  too  much  of  his  life  was  gone — that, 
like  the  day's  sun,  which  had  shone  so  brilliantly 
before  its  setting,  it  was  a  dying  glory.  Things  were 
becoming  too  pleasant  to  him.  The  giving  up  of  so 
much  money  with  so  little  reluctance  seemed  too  easy 
to  be  normal,  yet  the  fact  that  this  charming  Sylvia 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  287 

had  taken  him  with  such  a  diminished  fortune  con- 
tained the  most  intoxicating  and  subtile  flattery. 
There  had  been  something  of  this  in  his  first  mar- 
riage ;  but  although  he  felt  the  extreme  of  tender- 
ness, gratitude,  and  respect  for  his  first  wife,  it  had 
been  more  a  marriage  of  gentle  affection  than  pro- 
found passion.  Skelton  dimly  realised  what  Bui- 
strode  brutally  proclaimed — that  if  somebody  had 
not  violently  opposed  that  marriage  it  might  never 
have  taken  place.  But  Sylvia  Shapleigh  had  power- 
fully attracted  him  from  the  first.  Skelton  had  a 
vein  of  fatalism  about  him.  Like  the  old  Greeks,  he 
expected  to  pay  a  price  for  everything,  and  it  did 
not  surprise  him  that  in  the  natural  course  of  events 
he  had  to  pay  a  great  price  for  his  Sylvia. 

It  was  quite  dusk  when  he  stood  on  the  bridge 
and  looked  first  towards  Belfield  and  then  towards 
Deerchase.  The  twilight  had  fallen,  and  there  were 
yellow  lights  about.  Out  in  the  river  a  vessel  lay 
with  a  lantern  at  her  masthead,  that  glimmered  fit- 
fully, showing  the  dusky  outline  of  her  hull  against 
the  shadowy  mass  of  shore  and  sky.  Afar  off,  at 
the  negro  quarters,  a  circle  of  dark  figures  sat  around 
an  outdoor  fire,  and  a  song  faintly  echoed  from 
them.  Skelton  tried  to  distinguish  Sylvia's  win- 
dow from  the  dark  pile  of  the  Belfield  house,  but 
could  not,  and  smiled  at  himself  for  his  folly,  and 
was  glad  to  know  such  folly.  He  was  no  mean 
philosopher  in  the  actual  experiences  of  life. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said,  "  now  that  I  shall  stop  buy- 
ing books  by  the  thousand,  I  shall  get  something 
done  in  the  way  of  work  ;  and  having  assumed  duties 
and  claims,  I  shall  not  have  all  my  time  to  myself, 


288  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

and  so  may  be  spurred  to  use  it  more  successfully 
than  I  do  now — for  so  runs  life." 

Neither  Lewis  nor  Bulstrode  suspected  that  any- 
thing unusual  had  happened  to  Skelton  that  night. 
Skelton  longed  to  call  Lewis  to  him  and  to  tell  him 
that  he  had  a  friend — that  between  Sylvia  and  him- 
self he  would  have  two  as  stout  defenders  as  could 
be  found  ;  but  he  refrained  for  the  moment.  After 
dinner,  though,  when  Skelton  went  out  for  his  after- 
dinner  smoke  on  the  long,  leafy,  stone  porch  covered 
with  climbing  tea  roses  that  were  in  all  their  mid- 
summer glory,  Lewis  came  too.  This  was  very  rare. 
But  to-night  he  came  out  and  sat  looking  at  the 
river,  and  fondling  his  dog,  as  if  merely  for  the 
pleasure  of  being  there.  He  looked  less  sad,  less 
shy  than  usual.  The  truth  was,  he  was  young  and 
full  of  life,  and  he  could  not  always  be  gloomy. 
Skelton  talked  to  him  a  little,  and  the  two  sat  to- 
gether in  the  sweet,  odorous  night,  until  it  was  long 
past  Lewis's  bedtime.  Presently,  though,  he  began 
to  yawn,  and  got  up  to  go  to  bed ;  and  when  he  said 
"  Good-night,"  he  went  up  to  Skelton  and  touched 
his  hand  softly. 

That  touch  went  to  Skelton's  heart,  as  a  baby's 
fingers  go  to  the  heart  of  the  mother;  he  felt  the 
deep,  unmixed  delight  he  had  felt  when  Sylvia's 
radiant,  adoring  eyes  had  rested  on  his ;  it  was  one 
of  those  delicious  moments  of  which  there  are  too 
few  in  every  life.  Yes,  Lewis  was  certainly  begin- 
ning to  love  him. 

"  Good-night,  my  boy,"  said  Skelton,  laying  his 
hand  fondly  on  Lewis's  shoulder. 

Skelton  was  so  profoundly  happy  as  he  walked 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY.  289 

up  and  down  the  long  porch,  his  fine,  expressive  face 
so  changed  and  softened,  his  black  eyes  luminous  in 
the  dark,  that  he  asked  himself  if,  after  all,  Fate 
would  not  demand  something  more  than  mere  money 
in  payment  for  so  much  that  was  sweet. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

NEXT  morning  early,  while  Sylvia  was  yet  dream- 
ing, a  tap  came  at  her  door,  and  a  great  basket  of 
roses  and  a  letter  from  Skelton  were  given  to  her. 
The  letter  told  her,  most  delicately  and  artfully, 
what  he  had  intimated  the  night  before.  He  made 
a  touching  appeal  for  Lewis,  and  he  even  told  her 
in  detail  about  the  disposition  of  the  property  with- 
out offending  her — for  nothing  so  vitiates  sentiment 
as  the  talk  of  money.  But  there  was  nothing  to 
vitiate  it  in  the  willingness,  and  even  eagerness,  that 
Skelton  expressed  to  give  up  a  fortune  for  her.  Pos- 
sibly he  had  not  been  quite  so  ready  to  do  it  as  he 
professed ;  but  he  knew  how  to  make  a  virtue  of  a 
necessity,  and  it  lost  nothing  in  his  gallant  way  of 
putting  it.  Sylvia  was  quite  sharp  enough  to  see 
how  ably  he  had  managed  awkward  facts,  and  loved 
him  none  the  less  for  it,  and  admired  him  consider- 
ably more.  His  money  and  his  past  were  nothing 
to  her.  All  that  any  human  being  can  claim  of  an- 
other is  the  present  and  the  future. 

There  had  been  a  tremendous  commotion  at  Bel- 
field  after  Skelton  had  left  the  evening  before,  but 
Sylvia  scarcely  remembered  a  word  of  it  next  morn- 
ing. The  only  fact  her  mind  dwelt  on  was  that 

(290) 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 


29I 


Skelton  loved  her.  One  thing,  though,  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh  had  promptly  resolved  before  she  had  closed 
her  eyes  the  night  before,  which  was,  that  the  trip  to 
the  Springs  must  be  given  up.  Sylvia  had  landed 
the  leviathan  of  the  matrimonial  pool,  and  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  could  not  bear  to  tear  herself  away  from 
the  county  in  the  first  flush  of  her  triumph.  It  is 
true  it  was  not  the  custom  in  those  days  and  in  that 
region  to  announce  engagements,  but,  nevertheless, 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  had  no  doubt  it  would  get  out,  and 
had  convincing  reasons  for  so  believing.  Old  Tom 
was  far  from  objecting  to  the  abandonment  of  the 
trip  to  the  Springs.  He  was  not  particularly  anxious 
to  go  himself,  and  it  cost  a  pretty  penny  to  transport 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  and  Sylvia  and  the  maid,  and  the 
coachman  and  two  horses,  nearly  four  hundred  miles 
from  the  seaboard  to  the  Alleghany  Mountains,  and 
it  was  destructive  to  the  family  coach  and  usually 
foundered  the  horses. 

When  Sylvia  was  greeted  at  breakfast  with  the 
announcement  that  the  trip  to  the  Springs  was  off, 
naturally  it  did  not  grieve  her  in  the  least. 

Mrs.  Shapleigh — good  soul ! — started  upon  a  round 
of  visits  that  very  morning  to  give  a  number  of  ex- 
traordinary and  purposeless  reasons  why  the  trip 
was  abandoned,  and  everywhere  she  went  she  let 
the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  to  old  Tom's  infinite  diver- 
sion, who  went  along.  Newington  was  the  last  place 
they  went  to.  Blair  met  them  at  the  door  with  his 
usual  cordiality,  and  squeezed  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  hand 
and  ogled  her  as  if  she  had  been  twenty-five  instead 
of  fifty — to  Mrs.  Shapleigh's  obvious  delight,  al- 
though she  archly  reproved  him. 


292 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


The  place,  and  the  master  and  the  mistress  of  it, 
looked  more  prosperous  than  for  many  years  past; 
but  close  observers  might  see  that  Blair  and  his  wife 
were  not  quite  what  they  had  once  been ;  there  was 
a  little  rift  in  the  lute.  Both  of  them,  however,  were 
genuinely  glad  to  see  the  Shapleighs,  who  were 
among  the  best  of  friends  and  neighbours.  Mrs.  Blair 
asked  after  Sylvia,  and  then  the  murder  was  out. 
Mrs.  Shapleigh  began  : 

"  Sitting  at  home  in  the  drawing-room,  mooning 
with  Richard  Skelton.  He  was  over  there  all  yester- 
day during  the  storm,  and  one  would  think  they  had 
said  everything  on  earth  they  could  think  of  to  each 
other,  but  evidently  they  haven't.  I  can't  imagine 
what  they  find  to  talk  about,  for  Richard  Skelton 
never  knows  any  news. — What  ails  you,  Mr.  Shap- 
leigh ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  answered  old  Tom,  grinning 
delightedly,  "except  that  I'd  like  to  see  Richard 
Skelton's  countenance  if  he  could  hear  you  this 
minute." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  Mr.  Skelton  is  quite  welcome  to 
hear  anything  I  have  to  say.  I  say  he  never  knows 
any  news — and  so  he  does  not,  Mr.  Shapleigh.  Mr. 
Skelton  may  be  able  to  write  a  great  philosophical 
work  that  will  lose  his  own  soul,  I  haven't  the  slight- 
est doubt,  but  as  for  knowing  what's  going  on  in 
the  county — why,  he  knows  no  more  than  my  shoe. 
But  Sylvia  thinks  he's  delightful,  news  or  no  news." 

"  There  you  go,"  apostrophised  Mr.  Shapleigh, 
taking  out  his  big  snuff-box  and  indulging  himself 
in  a  huge  pinch.  Blair  usually  would  have  been 
highly  amused  at  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  and  would  have 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


293 


wickedly  kept  her  upon  the  ticklish  subject.  In- 
stead, however,  a  strange,  intense  look  flashed  into 
his  countenance  as  he  quietly  turned  his  eyes  full  on 
his  wife's  face.  Elizabeth  grew  pale.  If  Skelton 
was  to  be  married  to  Sylvia  Shapleigh — and  there 
had  been  much  talk  about  it  lately — the  crisis  was 
at  hand. 

Old  Tom  knew  there  was  a  mystery  about  the 
disposition  of  the  main  part  of  Skelton's  money  in 
the  event  of  his  death  or  marriage,  and  thought  it 
not  unlikely  that  the  Blairs  would  have  an  interest 
in  it.  So,  as  they  sat  there,  simple  country  gentry 
as  they  were,  leading  the  quietest  provincial  lives, 
and  talking  about  their  every-day  affairs,  there  was 
that  mixture  of  tragedy  that  is  seldom  absent  from 
the  comedy  of  life.  Mrs.  Shapleigh  went  into  an- 
other long-winded  explanation  of  why  they  had  de- 
termined at  the  last  minute  to  give  up  the  trip  to 
the  Springs.  At  every  reason  she  gave  Mr.  Shap- 
leigh grinned  more  and  more  incredulously ;  but, 
when  she  got  up  to  go,  neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Blair 
was  in  the  slightest  doubt  as  to  the  real  reason. 

Blair  put  Mrs.  Shapleigh  into  the  carriage,  gave 
old  Tom  an  arm,  and  came  back  in  the  house  to  his 
wife. 

Elizabeth  saw  in  a  moment  that  a  subtile  change 
had  come  over  him.  Since  he  had  given  up  the 
race  course  and  had  devoted  himself  to  the  planta- 
tion he  had  looked  a  different  man.  An  expression 
of  peace  had  come  into  his  ruddy,  mobile  face ;  he 
was  no  longer  hunted  and  driven  by  creditors  of  the 
worst  kind ;  he  did  not  live,  as  he  once  had,  on  the 
frightful  edge  of  expecting  a  horse's  legs  to  give 


294 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


out,  or  his  wind,  or  something  equally  important.  It 
is  true  that  he  was  haunted  by  the  possible  fortune, 
but  it  did  not  keep  him  from  attending  to  his  legiti- 
mate business,  as  horse  racing  had  done.  Now, 
however,  his  face  was  full  of  lines ;  some  fierce, 
sensual  self  seemed  to  have  come  uppermost  and  to 
have  altogether  changed  him.  Elizabeth  remem- 
bered about  that  black  horse,  and  she  began  to 
think  how  long  would  Blair  be  able  to  keep  off  the 
turf  with  money  in  his  pockets.  And  if  he  should 
get  so  much  money  as  the  Skelton  fortune  would  be, 
Mrs.  Blair's  feminine  good  sense  told  her  unerringly 
that  it  would  not  be  good  for  Blair. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  standing  up  before  her  in  the 
cool  drawing-room,  darkened  at  midday  from  the 
August  sun,  "  Skelton  is  going  to  be  married  to 
Sylvia  Shapleigh.  There  is  no  earthly  doubt  about 
it." 

Mrs.  Blair  quite  agreed  with  him,  but  her  face 
did  not  wear  the  look  of  uneasy  triumph  that  glowed 
darkly  upon  her  husband's. 

"  I  have  not  heard  from  England  yet,  but  I  feel 
perfectly  certain  that  the  day  he  is  married  his  wife's 
fortune  will  be  handed  over  to  his  heirs." 

"  Lewis  Pryor  is  his  heir,"  answered  Mrs.  Blair. 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?  "  cried  Blair.  "  Did  not 
Bulstrode  tell  you  that  he  thought  it  would  be  very 
hard  for  Skelton  to  prove  it  ?" 

"  But  Mr.  Bulstrode  is  not  a  man  of  very  good 
judgment  about  those  things.  He  felt  sorry  for  me 
the  night  he  told  me.  He  was  angry  with  Mr.  Skel- 
ton ;  he  says  he  thinks  Lewis  will  be  better  off  with- 
out the  money  than  with  it ;  and  so,  putting  all  those 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


295 


things  together,  he  concluded  that  we  would  get  it. 
But  I  know  Richard  Skelton  well,  and  I  know  that 
he  would  not  accept  of  his  own  happiness  at  the  price 
of  enriching  us ;  'and  he  adores  that  boy.  You  are 
deceiving  yourself  if  you  think  one  stiver  of  it  will 
ever  be  ours." 

Blair  looked  at  his  wife  with  deep  displeasure  in 
his  face. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  want  that  money,  and  I 
know  very  well  the  reason  why.  You  are  afraid  of 
money  for  me." 

Mrs.  Blair  did  not  deny  it,  but  sat,  in  pale  dis- 
tress, looking  into  her  husband's  face.  They  loved 
each  other  well,  in  spite  of  that  estrangement,  and 
Blair  got  up  and  went  to  her  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Elizabeth,  I  swear  to  you,  all  the  animosity  I 
feel  towards  Skelton  arose  first  through  the  love  I 
had  for  you.  Had  he  not  interfered  with  me  when 
you  and  I  were  first  lovers,  Skelton  and  I  should 
have  been  jolly  good  fellows  together;  but  I've  got 
into  the  habit  of  hating  him,  my  dear,  for  your  sake, 
and  it's  not  easy  to  leave  off." 

This  old,  old  flattery  never  failed  with  Elizabeth, 
nor  did  it  fail  now. 

The  whole  county  was  agog  in  a  week  over  Skel- 
ton's  affairs.  The  disposition  of  his  fortune  became 
more  and  more  puzzling  and  interesting  when  it  was 
perfectly  well  understood  that  the  time  for  the  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery  was  near  at  hand.  But  Skelton 
himself  and  Sylvia  Shapleigh  knew,  or  thought  they 
knew,  just  what  would  happen  about  it. 

Skelton,  who  was  a  model  lover,  pressed  for  an 
early  date  for  the  marriage  to  come  off,  and  the  late 


296  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

autumn  was  named.  This  gave  him  time  to  work  on 
Lewis.  He  took  the  boy  into  the  library  one  day 
and  told  him  the  whole  story  of  the  coming  marriage, 
laying  especial  stress  on  the  fact  that  Deerchase 
would  still  be  his  home  and  Sylvia  his  friend.  The 
great  news  pleased  the  boy,  and  Skelton  fondly 
hoped  that  it  had  reconciled  him ;  but  before  the 
interview  was  out  Skelton  saw  it  had  not.  Only, 
instead  of  being  obstinate  and  stiff-necked,  Lewis 
begged,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  Skelton  would 
not  make  it  public. 

"  I  need  not,  unless  the  Blairs  put  in  their  claim. 
The  whole  thing  is  in  Bulstrode's  hands,"  said  Skel- 
ton with  his  unbroken  forbearance. 

But  Lewis,  on  leaving  the  room,  reiterated  that  he 
would  never  admit  that  he  was  not  Lewis  Pryor  as 
long  as  he  had  a  fighting  chance.  And,  as  on  every 
occasion  that  it  had  been  spoken  of,  Skelton  gloried 
in  the  boy's  spirit  with  a  melancholy  joy.  Some- 
thing else  besides  pride  in  Lewis  and  affection  for 
Sylvia  made  Skelton  happy  then.  His  mind  seemed 
to  awaken  from  its  torpor,  induced  by  excess  of 
reading.  All  at  once  he  felt  the  creative  power  rise 
within  him  like  sap  in  a  tree.  The  very  night  after 
he  had  pledged  himself  to  Sylvia  he  went  to  the 
library  to  read,  and  suddenly  found  himself  writing. 
The  pen,  which  had  been  so  hateful  to  him,  became 
quickly  natural  to  his  hand.  He  cast  aside  his  great 
volumes  of  notes,  at  which  he  had  been  used  to  gaze 
with  a  furious  sense  of  being  helpless  and  over- 
weighted, and  wrote  as  readily  and  as  rapidly  as  in 
the  old  days  when  he  had  written  Voices  of  the 
People.  Of  course,  it  was  not  done  in  the  same 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


297 


spirit ;  he  realised  he  was  making  only  the  first 
rough  draft  of  a  work  that  would  still  take  him 
years  to  bring  into  shape ;  but  it  was  a  beginning, 
and  he  had  been  fifteen  years  trying  to  make  that 
beginning.  A  deep  sense  of  happiness  possessed 
him.  At  last,  at  last  he  had  the  thing  which  had 
eluded  him.  All  at  once  good  gifts  were  showered 
upon  him.  He  felt  a  profound  gratitude  to  Sylvia, 
for  her  touch  that  waked  his  heart  seemed  to  wake 
his  intellect  too.  The  lotus  eater  suddenly  cast 
aside  the  lotus  and  became  a  man. 

Every  day  Sylvia  claimed  a  part  of  his  day,  but 
the  remaining  hours  were  worth  months  to  him  in 
that  recent  time  when  he  was  nothing  better  than 
an  intellectual  dram  drinker.  Bulstrode  saw  it,  and 
said  to  him  : 

"  If  you  live  long  enough,  you'll  write  that  book." 

If  he  lived  long  enough  !  But  why  should  he  not 
live? 

That  night,  sitting  alone  in  the  library,  working 
eagerly  and  effectively  at  that  great  preliminary  plan, 
he  remembered  Bulstrode's  remark,  and  went  and 
looked  at  himself  in  a  small  mirror  in  a  corner  to 
examine  the  signs  of  age  upon  him.  Yes,  the  lines 
were  there.  But  then  the  ever-sweet  consciousness 
came  to  him  that  Sylvia  did  not  think  him  old ;  that 
Sylvia  would  marry  him  to-morrow  and  go  to  live  in 
the  overseer's  house  if  he  asked  her.  It  came  with  a 
sweetness  of  consolation  to  him.  He  was  at  the  very 
point  where  the  old  age  of  youth  had  not  yet  merged 
into  the  youth  of  old  age ;  forty  was  a  good  deal 
older  in  1820  than  in  19 — . 

There  was  one  person,  though,  who  thought  forty 


298  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

was  very  old — for  a  man,  although  fifty  was  com- 
paratively young  for  a  woman — and  that  was  Mrs. 
Shapleigh.  That  excellent  woman  was  in  mortal 
terror  of  her  future  son-in-law,  but  she  revenged 
herself  by  great  freedom  in  her  remarks  about  him 
behind  his  back,  as  far  as  she  dared,  to  Sylvia. 

Sylvia  was  indubitably  a  perfect  fool  about  Skel- 
ton,  as  her  mother  reminded  her  a  dozen  times  a  day. 
When  Sylvia  would  cunningly  place  herself  at  a  win- 
dow which  looked  across  the  fields  to  Deerchase,  Mrs. 
Shapleigh  would  remark  fretfully : 

"  Sylvia,  I  declare  you  behave  like  a  lunatic  about 
Richard  Skelton.  I'm  sure  I  was  as  much  in  love 
with  your  father  as  any  well  brought  up  girl  might 
be,  but  I  assure  you  it  never  cost  me  a  wink  of 
sleep." 

"Very  probably,  mamma." 

"  And  I  was  so  afraid  some  one  would  know  it, 
that  I  never  breathed  a  word  of  our  engagement  to 
a  soul.  It's  true,  some  people  suspected  it  after  we 
went  to  a  party  at  Newington  and  danced  ten 
quadrilles  together,  one  after  the  other,  but  I  de- 
nied we  were  engaged  up  to  two  weeks  before  the 
wedding." 

"Did  you  say  ten  quadrilles,  mamma?" 

"  Yes,  ten." 

"  I'm  sure  Mr.  Skelton  and  1  will  never  dance  ten 
quadrilles  in  one  evening  with  each  other." 

"  And  your  father  was  a  much  younger  and  hand- 
somer man  than  Richard  Skelton,  who  has  crow's- 
feet  in  the  corners  of  his  eyes." 

"  I  like  crow's-feet.  They  impart  an  air  of 
thoughtful  distinction  to  a  man." 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


299 


"  And  Mr.  Skelton  has  a  bald  place  as  big  as  a 
dollar  on  the  top  of  his  head.  Does  that  add  an  air 
of  thoughtful  distinction,  too?" 

"  Of  course  it  does.  There  is  something  capti- 
vating in  Mr.  Skelton's  baldness;  it  is  unique,  like 
himself.  It  makes  me  more  and  more  delighted  at 
the  idea  that  I  am  going  to  be  married  to  him." 

"Sylvia!"  shrieked  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  "do  you 
dare  to  be  so  bold  and  forward  as  to  say  that  you 
want  to  marry  Mr.  Skelton  ? " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  mamma — dreadfully." 

Mrs.  Shapleigh  raised  her  hands  and  let  them  fall 
in  her  lap  in  despair. 

"  For  a  girl  to  acknowledge  such  a  thing  !  Now, 
if  you  wanted  to  be  mistress  of  Deerchase,  there'd 
be  no  harm  in  it ;  but  to  want  to  marry  a  man  be- 
cause you  are  in  love  with  him  !  Dear,  dear,  dear ! 
what  is  the  world  coming  to  ? " 

Sylvia  laughed  with  shameless  merriment  at  this, 
and  just  then  the  door  opened  and  old  Tom  came  in. 

"  Mr.  Shapleigh,"  began  Mrs.  Shapleigh  in  a  com- 
plaining voice,  "  Sylvia's  not  at  all  like  me." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  cheerfully  assented  old  Tom. 

"  She  isn't  ashamed  to  say  that  she  is  in  love  with 
Richard  Skelton,  and  wants  to  marry  him.  Nobody 
ever  heard  me  say,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  that  I  was  in  love 
with  you,  or  wanted  to  marry  you." 

"  No,  indeed,  madam.  It  was  not  worth  while. 
You  hung  upon  me  like  ivy  on  a  brick  wall." 

"  La,  Mr.  Shapleigh,  how  you  talk  !  " 

"  And  I'm  sure,  my  love,  if  anybody  doubts  my 
devotion  to  you  during  your  lifetime,  they'd  never 
doubt  it  after  you're  dead.  I'll  engage  to  wear  more 


300 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


crape  and  weepers  than  any  ten  widowers  in  the 
county." 

This  always  shut  Mrs.  Shapleigh  up.  Sylvia  gave 
her  father  a  reproving  look,  but  she  was  too  much 
used  to  this  kind  of  thing  to  take  it  seriously.  Old 
Tom,  though,  indulged  in  his  sly  rallying  too. 

"  Well,  my  girl,  a  nice  establishment  you'll  have 
at  Deerchase.  I  swear,  I'd  throw  Bulstrode  and 
Bob  Skinny  in  the  river,  both  of  'em,  and  let  the 
fishes  eat  'em.  However,  if  you  can  stand  Skelton 
for  a  husband,  you  can  stand  anything." 

"  Only  give  me  a  chance  to  stand  Mr.  Skelton, 
papa,"  answered  Sylvia  demurely. 

"  If  the  house  were  to  catch  afire,  I  wonder  which 
Skelton  would  think  of  first — you  or  his  books  ?" 

"The  books,  of  course,"  responded  Sylvia,  with 
easy  sarcasm.  "  Wives  come  cheaper  than  books." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  Richard  Skelton's  face  the  first 
time  you  cross  him." 

"  You  would  see  a  very  interesting  face,  papa — 
not  very  young,  perhaps,  but  one  that  age  cannot 
wither  nor  custom  stale." 

"  Sylvia,  my  child,  you  are  a  fool !  " 

"  Only  about  Mr.  Skelton,  papa." 

"  Lord,  Lord,  what  are  we  coming  to !  " 

"  I  know  what  I'm  coming  to,  papa.  I  am  com- 
ing to  be  the  wife  of  the  finest  man  in  the  world, 
and  the  kindness  and  condescension  of  Mr.  Skelton 
in  wanting  to  marry  me  I  never  can  be  sufficiently 
grateful  for — "  At  which,  in  the  midst  of  a  shriek 
of  protest  from  Mrs.  Shapleigh,  Sylvia  ran  out  of 
the  room. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

As  the  time  went  by,  with  this  new-found  happi- 
ness and  energy  Skelton  began  every  day  to  take 
more  optimistic  views  of  the  future.  If  only  the 
Blairs  would  keep  quiet,  the  story  about  Lewis  might 
remain  unknown  to  the  world  at  large  indefinitely ; 
and  how  excellent  would  this  be  for  all — for  the  boy, 
for  Sylvia,  and  for  Skelton  himself. 

There  was,  of  course,  one  way  of  inducing  Blair 
to  say  nothing  and  to  make  no  attempts  to  prove 
what  he  considered  his  rights,  and  that  was  to  offer 
him  a  sum  of  money  in  hand  for  his  shadowy  pros- 
pects in  the  future.  At  first,  this  plan  was  intoler- 
ably distasteful  to  Skelton  ;  he  only  thought  of  it  to 
dismiss  it.  But  however  he  might  dismiss  it,  still 
it  returned.  It  is  true  it  would  give  aid  and  comfort 
to  his  enemy,  but  it  would  also  give  peace  and  pleas- 
ure to  the  only  two  persons  on  earth  whom  he  loved ; 
for  he  was  certain  that,  however  Sylvia  might  be 
willing  to  brave  talk  for  his  sake,  it  would  be  an  im- 
measurable relief  to  her  to  know  that  there  would  be 
no  talk.  Skelton  also  knew  perfectly  well  that  the 
Blairs  stood  no  show  whatever ;  for,  even  if  Lewis 
should  die,  the  Blairs  could  not  inherit  from  him, 
because  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  he  was  no  relation  to 
20  (301) 


302 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 


them,  and  it  had  pleased  Skelton  to  think  how  com- 
pletely he  could  checkmate  Blair  at  every  turn.  But 
once  the  plan  had  entered  his  mind,  his  relentless 
and  logical  good  sense  forced  him  to  consider  it. 
He  thought  so  much  more  clearly  and  rapidly  and 
conclusively  than  the  ordinary  man  that  in  a  very 
little  time  his  mind  had  made  itself  up.  He  did  not 
all  at  once  love  Blair,  but  he  saw  that,  in  order  to 
effect  a  great  gain  for  the  only  two  beings  he  loved 
in  the  world,  he  must  agree  to  benefit  his  enemy; 
and  so,  under  new  and  better  influences,  he  brought 
himself  to  yield.  As  Bulstrode  was  Lewis's  guardian, 
of  course  Skelton  could  arrange  with  him  as  he  chose. 

When  his  determination  was  finally  fixed,  he  told 
Bulstrode,  who  said : 

"  Humph  !  Best  thing  you  could  do.  Perhaps  the 
story  about  Lewis  may  never  be  positively  known. 
/  don't  want  to  publish  it,  and  he  doesn't,  and  you 
don't;  so  just  get  the  Blairs  to  hold  their  tongues, 
and  it  need  not  be  known  any  farther  than  it  is  now, 
for  God  knows  how  long — perhaps  not  until  you  and 
I  both  are  dust.  Dear,  sweet  Mrs.  Blair  can  hold 
her  tongue,  I  warrant,  if  any  of  the  sex  can." 

Bulstrode,  fearing  that,  after  all,  the  Blairs  stood 
no  chance,  was  glad  for  his  dear  Mrs.  Blair  to  get 
enough  to  put  her  beyond  the  reach  of  poverty. 

Skelton  felt  compelled  to  mention  it  to  Sylvia. 
Her  relief  at  the  thought  that  the  story  need  not  be 
published  broadcast  was  so  intense  that  Skelton  saw 
that  she  had  suffered  much  from  the  apprehension 
of  it.  As  she  had  said  not  one  word  about  it,  he 
was  touched  at  her  reticence  and  self-sacrifice.  He 
smiled  at  the  thought  that  he  was  being  influenced 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  303 

by  a  woman  and  a  boy,  and  the  trio  was  completed 
when  the  parson  finished  the  job.  Conyers  coming 
down  to  Deerchase  on  a  visit  about  that  time,  Skel- 
ton,  very  unexpectedly  to  the  clergyman,  talked  the 
subject  over  with  him  on  ethical  grounds.  Naturally, 
Conyers  endorsed  the  idea  that  Skelton's  money 
could  not  be  put  to  a  better  use  than  to  helping  Mrs. 
Blair  and  her  children ;  and  so,  by  the  three  influ- 
ences that  Skelton  was  supposed  to  be  least  gov- 
erned, he  made  up  his  mind  to  do  that  which  a  year 
before  he  would  have  scoffed  at.  Conyers's  ideas 
on  matters  of  right  and  wrong  were  so  clear  and 
logical,  he  was  so  little  befogged  by  interest  and 
prejudice,  that  Skelton  could  not  but  respect  his 
opinion.  True,  his  mind  was  made  up  when  he  talked 
with  Conyers  about  the  matter;  but  the  clergyman's 
clearness  of  belief  that  the  thing  was  right  nullified 
some  of  the  old  restless  hatred  of  Blair. 

"  Of  course,  we  shall  hate  each  other  as  long  as 
we  live,"  said  Skelton,  in  his  cynically  good-natured 
way,  when  talking  with  Conyers  about  Blair.  "  But, 
however  Blair  may  congratulate  himself  on  getting 
something  for  nothing — for  that  is  what  it  is — I 
shall  get  a  great  deal  more.  I  shall  keep  people 
from  knowing  my  private  affairs  for  at  least  several 
years  to  come,  and  that  is  worth  a  fortune  to  any 
man." 

Skelton  acted  promptly  on  his  decision.  He 
wrote  Blair  briefly  and  clearly  how  things  stood,  but 
that,  if  he  would  refrain  from  making  any  attempt 
to  prove  his  supposed  claims  to  the  property  upon 
Skelton's  approaching  marriage,  a  modest  sum  in 
ready  money  would  be  forthcoming.  He  offered 


304 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


Blair  every  facility  for  finding  out  the  actual  state 
of  the  case,  and  invited  him  to  come  over  to  Deer- 
chase  and  consult  about  it. 

Blair  told  his  wife,  who,  woman-like,  advised  him 
to  take  the  bird  in  the  hand. 

But  during  the  discussion  in  the  Deerchase  library 
one  mild  September  morning,  between  the  two  men, 
the  whole  thing  liked  to  have  fallen  through.  Blair 
saw  so  conclusively  he  had  no  show  that  he  perceived 
he  was  accepting  hush  money.  This  his  pride  could 
by  no  means  admit,  and  he  professed  not  to  consider 
Skelton's  proofs  so  positive  as  Skelton  thought  them. 
This  angered  Skelton.  He  saw  in  a  moment  where 
the  shoe  pinched.  The  sum  that  Skelton  offered  him 
was  by  no  means  commensurate  with  the  interests 
he  was  giving  up,  if  he  had  any  interests  at  all ;  but 
still  it  would  put  him  on  his  feet ;  it  would  make 
him  solvent ;  he  would  once  more  be  a  free  man. 
But  Blair  would  not  acknowledge  this;  he  professed 
to  be  quite  indifferent  to  it,  and,  as  men  will  do 
under  such  circumstances,  declared  he  preferred  that 
the  law  should  settle  it.  It  was  as  much  as  Skelton 
could  do  to  refrain  from  calling  him  a  fool.  How- 
ever, Blair  was  no  fool;  he  was  only  an  intensely 
human  man,  who  loved  and  hated  as  most  men  do, 
and  who  wanted  to  satisfy  his  creditors,  but  who  did 
not  like  the  idea  of  his  enemy  knowing  that  he  was 
taking  money  for  holding  his  tongue  because  his 
rights  in  the  matter  had  proved  to  be  a  chimera.  It 
looked  at  one  time  as  if  the  final  word  would  be  a 
disagreement.  Skelton  sat  on  one  side  of  the  table, 
with  a  contemptuous  half-smile  on  his  countenance, 
drawing  pen-and-ink  sketches  upon  scraps  of  paper. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  305 

Blair  sat  on  the  other  side,  his  face  as  black  as  mid- 
night. But  in  the  end  Skelton's  strong  determina- 
tion prevailed  on  Blair's  more  violent  but  less  cer- 
tain will  power ;  coolness  prevailed  over  hot-headed- 
ness,  reason  over  unreason.  At  the  very  last,  when 
Blair  had  yielded  and  agreed  to  take  some  thousands 
of  dollars,  a  strange  thing  happened  to  Skelton. 
A  perfectly  sudden,  overpowering,  and  phenomenal 
generosity  seized  upon  him.  All  at  once  he  realised 
how  hard  he  had  been  upon  Blair's  susceptibilities; 
Blair  was  a  gentleman,  and  high-strung  for  all  his 
faults ;  it  was  humiliating  to  him  to  want  the  money 
so  badly  that  he  was  obliged  to  take  it ;  he  would 
have  liked  to  have  flung  it  in  Skelton's  face;  and, 
thinking  this  over  rapidly,  without  a  word  Skelton 
sat  down,  pulled  the  completed  draft  of  the  agree- 
ment toward  him,  and  doubled  the  first  figure  of  the 
sum  named. 

Blair  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes.  He  looked 
at  Skelton  for  fully  five  minutes,  while  the  thing  was 
slowly  impressing  itself  upon  his  mind.  His  face 
flushed  scarlet ;  his  lips  worked  ;  he  was  deeply  agi- 
tated. Skelton  walked  to  the  window  and  looked 
out.  His  eyes  sought  the  river,  and  fell  upon  a  boat 
with  its  one  white  sail  gleaming  like  silver  in  the 
morning  light ;  and  in  the  boat  were  Sylvia  and 
Lewis.  His  heart  stirred  ;  those  two  young  creatures 
were  doing  their  work  of  humanising  him. 

Presently  Blair  spoke  some  incoherent  words  of 
thanks,  and  Skelton  turned.  The  two  enemies  of 
long  standing  faced  each  other.  It  was  a  moment 
exquisitely  painful  to  both.  Skelton,  in  being  gen- 
erous, could  be  thoroughly  so ;  and  he  was  more 


306 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


anxious  to  escape  from  Blair  than  Blair  was  to  escape 
from  him.  He  motioned  with  his  hand  deprecatingly 
and  rang  the  bell.  Bob  Skinny  appeared,  and  Skel- 
ton  directed  him  to  call  Mr.  Bulstrode  and  Miles 
Lightfoot.  Skelton  had  no  mind  to  take  up  any 
more  time  in  the  business  than  he  could  help.  The 
subject  was  distasteful  to  him,  and  he  intended  to 
settle  it  all  at  one  sitting.  Likewise  he  employed  no 
lawyer.  He  was  lawyer  enough  for  so  simple  a  thing 
as  an  agreement  of  that  sort ;  so  in  two  minutes  it 
was  signed,  witnessed,  and  sealed,  and  Blair  had 
Skelton's  cheque  in  his  pocket.  Blair  went  off,  half 
dazed,  with  his  cheque  and  his  agreement  in  his 
breast  pocket.  Skelton  put  his  copy  in  his  strong 
box,  and  when  he  had  turned  the  key  upon  it  he  felt 
as  if  he  had  locked  up  his  hatred  with  it.  Bulstrode 
wanted  to  see  him  about  some  work  he  had  finished, 
and  Miles  Lightfoot  was  eager  to  tell  him  something 
about  his  horses,  but  Skelton  sent  them  both  off  im- 
patiently. He  was  in  no  mood  for  books  or  horses 
then.  He  threw  himself  in  his  chair  and  enjoyed 
for  the  first  time  the  luxury  of  befriending  an  enemy. 
Strange,  strange  feeling ! 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

ABOUT  one  o'clock  Lewis  returned  from  his  sail. 
Skelton  had  come  out  of  the  library  then,  and  was 
walking  up  and  down  the  stone  porch.  He  had  just 
got  a  note  from  Mrs.  Blair — the  most  grateful,  affec- 
tionate note.  Skelton  put  it  in  his  pocket  to  show 
Sylvia  that  afternoon,  having  promised  himself  the 
luxury  of  her  sweet  approval. 

Lewis  came  up  to  him  and  began  to  tell,  boy 
fashion,  of  the  sail  he  had  down  the  river ;  the  won- 
derful speed  of  his  boat ;  how  Sylvia  had  been  fright- 
ened at  a  few  white  caps,  and  how  he  had  reassured 
her.  Skelton  listened  smiling.  Lewis  was  a  little 
vain  of  his  accomplishments  as  a  sailor.  Then,  after 
a  few  moments,  Skelton  said  to  him  gravely : 

"  Lewis,  you  remember  what  you  are  so  anxious 
that  no  one  should  know  about  you?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Lewis,  blushing. 

"  I  have  arranged  so  that  I  do  not  think  it  will  be 
known  for  some  years  certainly — possibly  never.  Mr. 
Blair,  Mr.  Bulstrode,  and  I  have  arranged  it." 

The  boy  looked  at  him  with  shining  eyes.  "  Some 
years"  sounds  like  "forever"  to  extreme  youth. 
His  face  was  expressive  with  delight.  He  came  up 
to  Skelton,  and  of  his  own  accord  laid  his  hand 

(307) 


308 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


timidly  upon  Skelton's  arm.  It  was  the  second  time 
in  his  life  that  he  had  ever  done  such  a  thing,  and 
the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  Skelton  overcome 
with  emotion.  He  looked  at  the  boy  with  an  in- 
tensity of  affection  that  was  moving ;  a  mist  came 
into  his  eyes.  He  rose  and  walked  quickly  to  the  end 
of  the  porch,  leaving  Lewis  standing  by  his  empty 
chair — amazed,  touched,  at  what  he  saw  before  him. 
Skelton's  weakness  was  womanish,  but  he  did  not 
feel  ashamed  of  it.  He  felt  that  in  the  boy's  heart 
the  natural  affection  was  quickening  for  which  he 
had  longed  with  a  great  longing. 

After  a  while  he  turned  and  made  some  ordinary 
remark  to  Lewis,  who  answered  him  in  the  same  way  ; 
but  there  was  a  sweet,  ineffable  change  in  their  atti- 
tude one  to  the  other.  Nature  had  her  rights,  and 
she  had  vindicated  herself.  Lewis  fondly  thought 
the  disgrace  that  he  dreaded  was  forever  removed 
from  him,  and  no  longer  struggled  against  that  feel- 
ing of  a  son  for  his  father  that  had  been  steadily 
growing  in  his  breast,  although  as  steadily  repressed, 
ever  since  he  had  known  really  who  he  was. 

As  for  Skelton,  he  walked  down  towards  the  river 
in  a  kind  of  ecstasy.  The  boy's  heart  was  his.  No 
lover  winning  his  mistress  ever  felt  a  more  delicious 
triumph. 

As  he  strolled  along  by  the  cedar  hedges  near  the 
river,  and  the  masses  of  crape  myrtle  and  syringa, 
that  could  withstand  the  salt  air  and  the  peevish 
winds  of  winter,  he  began  to  consider  ail  his  new 
sources  of  happiness.  There  was  the  deep,  tumul- 
tuous joy  of  Sylvia's  love,  and  the  profound  tender- 
ness he  felt  for  Lewis,  that  had  only  grown  the  more 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


309 


for  the  stern  subduing  of  it;  and  there  was  that 
awakened  creative  power  which  made  him  feel  like 
a  new  man.  And  the  spectre  of  his  hatred  of  Blair 
had  been  laid  at  least  for  a  time — no  one  can  hate 
the  being  one  has  just  benefited.  And  then,  looking 
about  him,  he  felt  that  Deerchase  was  not  a  pos- 
session to  be  despised.  He  had  seen  too  much  real 
grandeur  to  overestimate  the  place ;  yet  it  was 
singularly  beautiful,  not  only  with  the  beauty  of 
green  old  gardens  and  giant  trees  that  clustered 
around  the  stately  house,  and  noble  expanses  of 
velvety  turf  and  dewy  woods,  but  it  had  that  rich 
beauty  of  a  great,  productive,  landed  estate.  Na- 
ture was  not  only  lovely,  but  she  was  beneficent. 
Those  green  fields  brought  forth  lavishly  year  after 
year.  There  was  room,  and  work,  and  food  for  all. 
Skelton  saw,  half  a  mile  inland,  the  negroes  weeding 
out  the  endless  ranks  of  the  corn,  then  as  high  as  a 
man's  head,  and  flaunting  its  splendid  green  banners 
magnificently  in  the  August  air.  The  toilers  were 
merry,  and  sang  as  they  worked ;  two  or  three  other 
negroes  were  half  working,  half  idling  about  the 
grounds,  in  careless  self-content ;  Bob  Skinny  sunned 
himself  under  a  tree,  with  his  "  fluke  "  across  his  knee  ; 
and  the  peacock  strutted  up  and  down  haughtily  on 
the  velvet  grass.  The  river  was  all  blue  and  gold, 
and  a  long  summer  swell  broke  upon  the  sandy  shore. 
All  the  beauty  of  the  scene  seemed  to  enter  into 
Skelton's  soul.  It  was  exactly  attuned  to  his  feel- 
ings. He  did  not  long  for  mountain  heights  and 
lonely  peaks  or  wind-lashed  waves  ;  this  sweet  scene 
of  peace  and  plenty  was  in  perfect  harmony  with 
him. 


JIG  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

He  was  too  happy  to  work  then,  but  he  felt  within 
him  a  strange  power  to  work  within  a  few  hours.  As 
soon  as  night  came  he  would  go  to  the  library  ;  those 
long  evenings  of  slothful  dreaming  and  reading  and 
painful  idleness  were  no  more  ;  he  would  manage  to 
do  a  full  stint  of  work  before  midnight.  He  had 
written  in  the  morning  to  Sylvia  that  he  would  not 
see  her  that  day.  He  had  apprehended  that  after 
his  interview  with  Blair  he  might  not  be  in  the  most 
heavenly  frame  of  mind,  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  was 
so  unexpectedly  happy  that  he  longed  to  go  to  Bel- 
field  then.  But  Sylvia  would  not  be  ready  to  see 
him ;  she  would  be  taking  a  midday  nap  after  her 
morning  sail ;  he  would  go  at  his  usual  hour  in  the 
afternoon  and  surprise  her. 

He  continued  to  stroll  about,  his  straw  hat  in  his 
hand,  that  he  might  feel  the  soft  south  wind  upon 
his  forehead,  and  it  reminded  him  of  when  he  was  a 
boy.  How  closely  Lewis  resembled  him  ! — his  ways, 
his  tastes,  were  all  the  same,  except  healthier  than 
his  own  had  been.  He  never  remembered  the  time 
when  he  had  not  withdrawn  himself  haughtily  from 
his  companions.  Lewis  was  as  proud  and  reserved 
as  he  had  been,  though  from  an  altogether  different 
motive ;  for  with  poor  Lewis  it  was  the  reserve  of  a 
wounded  soul.  Skelton  remembered  well  how,  in  his 
boyhood,  he  had  lived  in  his  boat,  just  as  Lewis  did, 
spending  long  hours  lying  flat  in  the  bottom,  merely 
exerting  himself  enough  to  keep  the  boat  from  over- 
turning, and  going  far  down  into  the  bay,  where  the 
water  was  dark  and  troubled,  instead  of  being  blue 
and  placid  as  it  was  in  the  broad  and  winding  river. 

All  day  until  five  o'clock  the  beauty  held.     At 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  3II 

that  time  Skelton  came  out  on  the  stone  porch  to 
take  his  way  across  the  bridge  to  Belfield.  The  sky 
had  not  lost  its  perfect  blueness,  but  great  masses  of 
dense  white  clouds  were  piling  up,  and  a  low  bank 
of  dun  color  edged  the  western  sky.  The  wind,  too, 
was  rising,  and  far  down,  beyond  Lone  Point,  the 
white  caps  were  tumbling  over  each  other,  and  the 
wide  bay  was  black  and  restless.  Just  as  Skelton 
came  out  he  saw  the  one  snow-white  sail  of  Lewis's 
boat  rounding  Lone  Point. 

Bulstrode  was  sitting  on  the  porch,  snuffing  at  the 
rich  tea  roses,  and  with  the  inevitable  book  in  his 
hand;  but  he  looked  uneasy. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said  to  Skelton,  "  you'd  speak  to  the 
boy  about  going  out  in  that  boat  in  all  sorts  of 
weather.  There's  a  storm  coming  up  outside,  and 
nothing  will  please  him  more  than  to  be  caught  in  it, 
and  to  come  home  and  tell  you  how  near  he  came 
to  being  drowned.  'You  taught  him  to  manage  a 
boat  much  too  well.  He  takes  all  manner  of  risks, 
by  Jove ! " 

"  He  is  venturesome  to  the  last  degree,"  replied 
Skelton,  "  and  I  cannot  make  him  otherwise.  But, 
as  you  know  " — Skelton  smiled,  and  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment— "  I  suffer  all  sorts  of  palpitations  when  he  is 
in  danger.  Yet,  if  he  shirked  it,  I  should  detest 
him."  Bulstrode  raised  his  shaggy  brows  signifi- 
cantly ;  he  knew  all  this  well  enough  without  Skel- 
ton's  telling  him.  In  a  moment  Skelton  added  : 

"  It  has  also  been  a  satisfaction  to  me  to  see  this 
spirit  in  him,  for  it  indicates  he  will  be  a  man  of 
action.  I  entreat  you,  Bulstrode,  if  you  should  out- 
live me,  never  let  him  become  a  mere  dreamer.  I 


312 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


would  rather  see  him  squander  every  dollar  that  will 
be  his,  if  the  possession  of  it  should  make  him  a  mere 
dilettante — what  I  have  been  so  long,  but  which  I 
shall  never  be  again,  by  heaven ! " 

Bulstrode  looked  surprised.  He  could  not  imagine 
why  a  dissipated  old  hulk  like  himself  should  outlast 
Skelton,  who  was  in  the  most  perfect  vigour  of  man- 
hood. As  he  watched  Skelton  walking  across  the 
lawn  to  the  bridge  he  could  not  but  observe  his 
grace,  his  thoroughbred  air,  the  indescribable  some- 
thing that  made  other  men  commonplace  beside  him. 

"  Don't  wonder  the  women  fall  in  love  with  you  !  " 
he  growled,  returning  to  his  book. 

Over  at  Belfield,  Sylvia,  with  the  train  of  her 
white  gown  over  her  arm,  was  walking  daintily 
through  the  old-fashioned  garden  to  an  arbour,  at  the 
end  of  the  main  walk,  with  a  rustic  table  and  chairs 
in  it.  In  good  weather  she  and  Skelton  passed  many 
hours  there.  Sylvia  was  quite  alone  this  afternoon. 
Her  father  and  mother  had  gone  up  the  county  for  a 
two  days'  visit,  and  left  her  at  home  perforce,  be- 
cause she  would  not  go  with  them.  Sylvia  was,  in- 
deed, completely  under  Skelton's  spell.  His  word 
was  law,  his  presence  was  everything.  She  felt 
acutely  disappointed  that  she  would  not  see  him  that 
day,  but  she  would  go  to  the  arbour  and  fondly 
cheat  herself  into  the  belief  that  he  would  come.  In 
the  old  days  Sylvia  had  been  a  great  reader,  but  un- 
der the  new  dispensation  when  she  read  at  all  she 
read  idly — sweet  verses,  which  were  merely  an  epit- 
ome of  that  greater  story  of  life  and  love  that  she 
was  studying  for  herself.  She  went  into  the  arbour 
and  sat  down,  and  spread  Skelton's  note  out  upon  the 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


313 


little  table.  What  perfect  notes  he  wrote  ! — brief  and 
to  the  point,  but  exquisitely  graceful — one  of  those 
gallant  accomplishments  that  he  excelled  in.  One 
round  white  arm  supported  her  charming  head ;  the 
other  hung  down' at  her  side,  the  hand  half  open,  as 
if  her  lover  had  just  dropped  it.  Sylvia  was  as  pretty 
a  disconsolate  picture  as  could  be  imagined  when 
Skelton  walked  into  the  arbour.  She  started  up,  a 
beautiful  rosy  blush  suddenly  dawning. 

"  Here  I  am,  like  an  old  fool,"  said  Skelton,  smil- 
ing as  he  took  her  hand.  "  I  concluded  I  couldn't 
come,  but  then  the  wish  to  see  you  was  too  strong 
for  me.  See  what  a  havoc  you  have  made  in  my 
middle-aged  heart ! " 

"  Your  heart,  at  least,  is  not  middle-aged,"  an- 
swered Sylvia,  with  a  sweet,  insinuating  smile  ;  "  and 
I  wish,"  she  added  with  bold  mendacity,  "  that  you 
had  some  crow's-feet  and  grey  hairs.  I  adore  crow's- 
feet  and  grey  hairs." 

"  I  think  you  can  find  some  of  both  to  adore," 
answered  Skelton,  with  rather  a  grim  smile  in  return. 

They  were  close  by  the  rustic  seat,  and  both  of 
them  sat  down,  Skelton's  arm  just  touching  her 
rounded  shoulder.  The  air  had  grown  dark,  and 
there  was  a  kind  of  twilight  in  the  arbour.  They 
seemed  as  much  alone  as  if  they  had  been  in  the 
depths  of  the  woods,  instead  of  in  an  old-fashioned 
garden. 

"I  shall  have  to  build  you  a  summerhouse  at 
Deerchase,"  said  Skelton.  "  There  is  a  pretty  spot 
in  the  garden,  near  the  river,  where  the  roses  have 
climbed  all  over  an  old  latticework  left  standing 
since  my  mother's  time." 


3I4  CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 

"  And  shall  there  be  a  tea  table  for  me  ? " 

"  Yes,  a  tea  table—" 

Sylvia  knitted  her  pretty  brows. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do  about  Mr.  Bul- 
strode and  the  tea  table.  You  and  Lewis  and  I  are 
just  company  enough,  but  Mr.  Bulstrode  will  not  fit 
in  at  all." 

Sylvia  was  quite  clever  enough  to  see  that  Skel- 
ton did  not  intend  to  have  Lewis  left  out  of  any 
scheme  of  happiness  in  which  he  was  concerned,  and 
therefore  wisely  included  him. 

"I  think,"  said  Skelton,  "we  will  have  to  leave 
Bulstrode  out  of  that  little  idyl.  Bulstrode  likes 
— reveres  you,  as  he  does  all  good  and  charming 
women,  but  he  is  undoubtedly  afraid  of  women.  He 
will  probably  take  up  his  quarters  in  the  wing,  and 
only  prowl  about  the  library.  But  you  and  I  and 
Lewis  will  be  very  happy.  The  boy  loves  you,  and, 
Sylvia,"  continued  Skelton,  with  his  sweetest  elo- 
quence of  voice  and  look,  "  you  have  no  conception 
of  how  he  longs  for  affection.  He  is  very  proud  and 
sensitive,  and — poor  little  soul ! — he  has  no  friends 
but  you  and  me  and  Bulstrode,  I  think." 

"/mean  to  be  his  friend,"  said  Sylvia  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  And  I,  too,  felt  that  longing  for  affection  until 
— until — "  Skelton  finished  the  sentence  by  kissing 
Sylvia's  fair  red  mouth. 

After  a  while  Skelton  told  her  delicately  about 
the  interview  with  Blair,  except  that  voluntary 
doubling  of  what  he  had  first  given  him.  Sylvia 
listened,  and  thought  Skelton  certainly  the  most 
magnanimous  man  on  earth.  She  quite  forgot 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 


315 


that  Blair  had  a  score  against  Skelton,  and  a  long 
one,  too. 

The  late  afternoon  grew  dark ;  the  white  clouds 
became  a  copper  red,  the  dark  line  at  the  horizon 
rose  angrily  and  covered  the  heavens.  The  air 
turned  chilly,  and  the  wind  came  up  wildly  from  the 
bay.  One  of  the  northwest  storms  peculiar  to  the 
season  and  the  latitude  was  brewing  fast.  But  Skel- 
ton and  Sylvia  were  quite  oblivious  of  it — strangely 
so  for  Skelton,  who  was  rarely  forgetful  or  unob- 
servant of  what  went  on  around  him.  But  that  whole 
day  had  been  an  epoch  with  him.  When  had  he  a 
whole  day  of  complete  happiness  in  his  life  ?  How 
many  days  can  any  mortal  point  to  when  one  has 
become  happy,  has  become  generous,  has  become  be- 
loved ?  Yet,  such  had  been  this  day  with  Skelton. 
Sylvia,  who  had  been  dear  to  him  before,  became 
dearer.  Something  in  the  time,  the  spot,  the  alone- 
ness,  waked  a  deeper  passion  in  him  than  he  had  felt 
before.  He  forgot  for  the  first  time  how  the  hours 
were  flying.  He  could  not  have  told,  to  save  his  life, 
how  long  he  had  sat  in  that  half  darkness,  with  Syl- 
via's soft  head  upon  his  breast,  her  hand  trembling 
in  his.  A  sweet  intoxication,  different  from  anything 
he  had  ever  felt  before,  possessed  him.  Suddenly 
the  wind,  which  had  soughed  mournfully  among  the 
trees,  rose  to  a  shriek.  It  flung  a  rose  branch  full  in 
Sylvia's  face,  and  a  dash  of  cold  rain  came  with  it. 
Skelton  started,  rudely  awakened  from  his  dream. 
It  was  dark  within  the  arbour  and  dark  outside. 
What  light  still  lingered  in  the  sullen  sky  was  a  pale 
and  ghastly  glare.  The  river  looked  black,  and,  as 
the  wind  came  screaming  in  from  the  ocean,  it 


3I6  CHILDREN    OF   DESTINY. 

dashed  the  water  high  over  the  sandy  banks.  A 
greater  change  could  not  be  imagined  than  from  the 
soft  beauty  of  the  afternoon. 

Skelton  and  Sylvia  both  rose  at  the  same  moment. 
The  rain  had  turned  to  hail ;  the  storm  that  had  been 
gathering  all  the  afternoon  at  last  burst  upon  them. 
In  half  a  moment  Sylvia's  white  dress  was  drenched. 
As  they  stood  at  the  entrance  to  the  arbour,  Skelton, 
with  his  arm  around  her,  about  to  make  a  dash  for 
the  house,  turned  and  glanced  over  his  shoulder 
towards  the  river,  and  there,  in  the  black  and  angry 
water,  storm-tossed  and  lashed  by  the  wind,  a  boat 
was  floating  bottom  upwards.  There  had  evidently 
not  been  time  to  take  the  sail  down,  and  every  min- 
ute it  would  disappear  under  the  seething  waves  and 
then  come  up  again — and  clinging  to  the  bottom  of 
the  boat  was  a  drenched  boyish  figure  that  both 
Skelton  and  Sylvia  recognised  in  a  moment.  It  was 
Lewis  Pryor.  His  hat  was  gone,  and  his  jacket  too ; 
he  was  holding  on  desperately  to  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  the  hurricane  was  driving  the  cockleshell 
down  the  river  at  a  furious  rate. 

Skelton  uttered  an  exclamation  like  a  groan  and 
pointed  to  the  boat. 

"  See  ! "  he  cried,  "  he  can  scarcely  hold  on — he 
has  probably  been  hurt.  Go,  dearest,  go  at  once  to 
the  house;  I  must  go  to  the  boy." 

There  was  a  boat  at  the  wharf,  and  the  negroes, 
who  had  collected  on  the  shore  and  were  shrieking 
and  running  about  wildly,  were  foolishly  trying  to 
raise  the  sail.  In  that  one  quick  moment  of  parting, 
as  Skelton's  eyes  fell  upon  Sylvia's,  he  saw  in  them 
an  agony  of  apprehension  for  him.  It  was  no  safi 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


317 


matter  to  venture  out  in  the  violence  of  a  northwest 
storm  in  the  shallow  pleasure  boat  that  lay  tossing 
at  the  wharf,  with  the  negroes  vainly  and  excitedly 
toiling  at  the  sail,  which  the  wind  beat  out  of  their 
strong  hands  like  a  whip.  But  Sylvia  did  not  ask 
him  to  stay.  Skelton  pressed  her  once  to  his  heart  ; 
he  felt  gratitude  to  her  that  she  did  not  strive  use- 
lessly to  detain  him.  He  ran  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  just  as  he  reached  it  the  sail,  which  had  been  got 
up,  ripped  in  two  with  a  loud  noise,  and  the  mast 
snapped  short  off.  The  rope,  though,  that  held  the 
boat  to  the  wharf  did  not  give  way,  and  a  dozen  stal- 
wart negroes  held  on  to  it. 

Meanwhile,  Lewis's  boat,  that  had  been  dimly 
visible  through  the  hail  and  the  mist,  disappeared. 
The  negroes  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  which  was  echoed 
from  the  Deerchase  shore  by  the  crowd  assembled 
there.  Skelton's  wildly  beating  heart  stood  still,  but 
in  the  next  minute  the  boat  reappeared  some  dis- 
tance farther  down  the  river.  Lewis  had  slightly 
changed  his  position.  He  still  hung  on  manfully, 
but  he  was  not  in  as  good  a  place  as  before.  The 
sail,  which  still  held,  acted  as  a  drag,  so  that  the 
progress  of  the  boat,  although  terribly  swept  and 
tossed  about,  was  not  very  rapid. 

At  the  wharf  it  took  a  moment  or  two  to  clear 
away  the  broken  mast  and  the  rags  of  the  sail.  Two 
oars  were  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  As  Skelton 
was  about  to  spring  into  it  he  turned,  and  saw  Sylvia 
standing  on  the  edge  of  the  wharf,  her  hands  clasped, 
her  hair  half  down  and  beaten  about  her  pale  face 
by  the  fierce  gust,  her  white  dress  soaked  with  the 
rain.  She  had  followed  him  involuntarily.  In  the 


3i  8  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

excitement,  and  in  his  fierce  anxiety  for  Lewis,  Skel- 
ton  had  not  until  that  moment  thought  of  the  dan- 
ger to  himself.  But  one  look  into  Sylvia's  face 
showed  him  that  she  remembered  it  might  be  the 
last  time  on  this  earth  that  they  would  look  into  each 
other's  eyes.  And  in  an  instant,  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  Skelton's  passion  for  Lewis  took  its  proper 
proportion — he  loved  Sylvia  infinitely  best  at  that 
moment.  As  if  Fate  would  punish  him  for  ever  let- 
ting the  boy's  claim  interfere  with  the  woman's,  he 
was  called  upon  to  take  his  life  in  his  hand — that  life 
that  she  had  so  beautifully  transformed  for  that 
boy's  sake. 

And  as  Sylvia  stood,  in  the  rain  and  wind,  Skel- 
ton  holding  her  cold  hands  and  looking  at  her  with 
a  desperate  affection,  some  knowledge  came  from 
his  soul  to  hers  that  at  last  she  was  supreme.  Skel- 
ton  himself  felt  that,  when  he  set  out  upon  that 
storm-swept  river,  he  would  indeed  be  setting  out 
upon  another  river  that  led  to  a  shoreless  sea.  This 
new,  sweet  life  was  saying  to  him,  "  Hail  and  fare- 
well ! " 

They  had  not  stood  thus  for  more  than  a  minute, 
but  it  seemed  a  lifetime  to  both.  When  it  dawned 
upon  Sylvia  that  nothing  short  of  Lewis's  cry  for 
life  could  draw  Skelton  from  her,  a  smile  like  moon- 
light passed  over  her  pallid  face.  She  had  the  same 
presentiment  that  Skelton  had — he  would  never  re- 
turn alive.  It  was  as  if  they  heard  together  the 
solemn  tolling  of  the  bell  that  marked  the  passing 
of  their  happiness.  But  not  even  death  itself  could 
rob  Sylvia  of  that  one  perfect  moment.  Then,  out 
of  the  roar  of  the  storm  came  a  cry  from  Lewis. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


319 


Skelton  raised  Sylvia's  hands  and  let  them  drop 
again.  Neither  spoke  a  word,  and  the  next  moment 
he  was  in  the  boat,  that  both  wind  and  tide  seized 
and  drove  down  the  river  like  an  eggshell. 

Skelton  had  two  oars,  but  they  did  him  little 
good.  He  could  not  direct  the  boat  at  all ;  the  wind 
that  was  blowing  all  the  water  out  of  the  river  blew 
him  straight  down  towards  Lone  Point.  He  felt  sure 
that  he  was  following  Lewis,  and  no  doubt  gaining 
on  him,  as  he  had  no  wet  sail  dragging  after  him, 
but  the  darkness  had  now  descended.  It  was  not 
more  than  seven  o'clock,  but  it  might  have  been 
midnight. 

Suddenly  a  terrific  squall  burst  roaring  upon  the 
storm  already  raging.  Skelton  could  hear  the  hurri- 
cane screaming  before  it  struck  him.  He  turned  cold 
and  faint  when  he  thought  about  the  boy  clinging  to 
the  boat  in  the  darkness.  He  was  still  trying  to  use 
his  oars  when  the  squall  struck  him.  One  oar  was 
wrenched  out  of  his  hand  as  if  it  had  been  a  straw, 
the  other  one  broke  in  half. 

At  that  Skelton  quietly  dropped  his  arms,  and  a 
strange  composure  succeeded  his  agony  of  fear  and 
apprehension  about  Lewis.  He  could  now  do  nothing 
more  for  Lewis,  and  nothing  for  himself.  He  was 
athletic,  although  neither  tall  nor  stout ;  but  he  did 
not  have  Lewis's  young  litheness,  and  he  was  already 
much  exhausted.  There  would  be  no  clinging  for 
hours  to  the  bottom  of  the  boat  for  him,  and  he  was 
no  swimmer ;  he  would  make  a  fight  for  his  life, 
but  he  felt  it  would  be  of  no  avail.  And  Sylvia! 
As  he  recalled  her  last  look  upon  him,  he  beat  his 
forehead  against  the  side  of  the  boat  like  a  madman ; 


320 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


but  the  momentary  wildness  departed  as  quickly  as 
it  came.  The  recollection  that  he  was  on  the  thresh- 
old of  another  world  calmed  him  with  the  awful 
majesty  of  the  thought.  He  said  to  himself,  "  Sylvia 
understands — and  she  will  never  forget !  "  All  sorts 
of  strange  ideas  came  crowding  upon  him  in  the 
darkness.  All  around  him  was  a  world  of  black  and 
seething  waters  and  shrieking  winds.  Could  this  be 
that  blue  and  placid  river  upon  which  so  much  of 
his  boyhood  had  been  spent  ?  Almost  the  first  thing 
he  remembered  was  standing  at  the  windows  of  his 
nursery,  when  he  was  scarcely  more  than  a  baby, 
watching  the  dimpling  shadows  on  the  water,  and 
wondering  if  it  were  deep  enough  to  drown  a  very 
little  boy.  And  he  had  lived  in  his  boat  as  a  boy, 
just  as  Lewis  did.  Then  he  remembered  the  Sep- 
tember afternoon,  so  long  ago,  when  he  had  taken 
Sylvia  in  his  boat,  and  that  night  just  such  a  ter- 
rible storm  had  come  up  as  this ;  the  bridge  had 
been  washed  away,  and  the  tide  had  overflowed  all 
the  flower  beds  at  Deerchase  and  had  come  almost 
up  to  the  hall  door.  He  remembered  the  morning 
after,  when  he  left  Deerchase — the  river,  as  far  as 
eye  could  reach,  a  gigantic  lagoon,  muddy  and  tur- 
bulent. Would  it  look  like  that  the  next  morning? 
and  would  a  person  drowned  that  night  be  found 
within  a  few  hours  ?  He  did  not  remember  ever  to 
have  heard  of  a  single  person  being  drowned  in  that 
river,  and  could  not  think  whether  the  body  would 
be  washed  ashore  or  would  sink  for  days. 

Ah,  how  sweet  had  existence  become  !  and  in  one 
day  he  had  compassed  the  happiness  of  a  lifetime. 
It  was  only  a  few  hours  ago  that  Lewis  was  sailing 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


321 


past  Deerchase  so  gaily,  and  Sylvia's  soft  hair  had 
been  so  lately  blown  in  his  face  by  summer  breezes. 
Presently  in  the  midst  of  the  darkness  and  the  wild- 
ness  he  again  heard  a  cry ;  he  recognised  Lewis's 
voice,  faint  as  it  was,  and  almost  drowned  by  the 
clamour  of  the  winds  and  the  waves.  Skelton  then 
felt  a  presentiment  that  Lewis  would  be  saved,  al- 
though he  himself  would  undoubtedly  be  lost.  And 
then  came  the  feeling  that  the  mystery  of  life  was  to 
be  solved.  No  matter  now  about  all  his  thoughts,  all 
his  speculations  ;  in  one  moment  he  would  know  more 
than  all  the  world  could  teach  him  about  those  vast 
mysteries  that  subtle  men  try  to  fathom.  Skelton 
was  too  sincere  a  man  and  too  fearless  to  change 
wholly  within  the  few  awful  moments  of  suspension 
between  two  worlds.  One  was  gone  from  him  al- 
ready, the  other  was  close  at  hand.  But  he  had 
always  firmly  believed  in  a  Great  First  Cause,  a 
Supreme  Being.  This  belief  took  on  strangely  the 
likeness  of  the  Christian  God,  the  Father,  Friend, 
the  Maker  who  orders  things  wisely  for  His  crea- 
tures. Instinctively  he  remembered  the  proverb  of 
the  poor  peasants  : 

"  The  good  God  builds  the  blind  bird's  nest." 
"  If  there  be  such  a  God,"  Skelton  said  to  him- 
self, "I  adore  Him."  The  next  moment  he  felt 
himself  struggling  ~'n  the  water,  with  blackness 
around  him  and  above  him,  and  the  wind  roaring, 
and  a  weight  of  water  like  a  million  tons  fell  upon 
him,  and  he  knew  no  more. 

Within  an  hour  the  tempest  had  gone  down  and 
the  clouds  were  drifting  wildly  across  the  pale  sky. 
Occasionally  the  moon  shone  fitfully.  The  banks  of 


322  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

the  river  were  patrolled  by  frightened  and  excited 
crowds  of  negroes,  with  Bulstrode  and  Blair  and  Mr. 
Conyers  and  one  or  two  other  white  persons  among 
them,  all  engaged  in  the  terrible  search  for  Skelton 
and  Lewis.  The  wind  had  suddenly  changed  to  ex- 
actly the  opposite  direction,  and  the  tide  was  running 
in  with  inconceivable  rapidity.  The  black  mud  of 
the  river  bottom  near  the  shore,  that  had  been 
drained  of  water,  was  now  quickly  covered.  Lights 
were  moving  along  the  shore,  boats  were  being  rowed 
about  the  river,  and  cries  resounded,  those  asking  for 
information  that  the  others  could  not  give.  Sylvia 
Shapleigh  had  spent  most  of  the  time  on  the  wharf 
where  Skelton  had  left  her.  The  servants  had  got 
around  her,  begging  her  to  go  to  the  house,  out  of 
the  storm.  Like  a  person  in  a  dream,  she  went  and 
changed  her  dress,  and  watched  with  dazed  eyes  the 
fury  of  sky  and  air  and  water.  She  could  not  wait 
for  the  watchers  on  the  shore  to  tell  her  what  was 
going  on  upon  the  river,  and  went  back  obstinately 
to  the  wharf,  in  spite  of  the  prayers  and  entreaties 
of  the  servants.  She  tried  to  persuade  herself  that 
she  was  watching  for  Skelton's  return,  but  in  her  in- 
most heart  she  felt  she  would  never  see  him  alive 
again. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  when  she  heard  a  shout 
some  distance  down  the  river,  and  a  boat  pulled  up, 
through  the  ghostly  light,  towards  Deerchase.  Sylvia 
started  in  feverish  haste  towards  the  bridge.  She  ran 
in  her  eagerness.  As  she  reached  the  farther  end, 
just  at  the  Deerchase  lawn,  she  met  Conyers  coming 
towards  her. 

"  It  is  Lewis — Lewis  is  alive ! "   he  said.     "  He 


IT  is  LEWIS— LEWIS  is  ALIVE!"    HE  SAID.     "  HE  is  EXHAUSTED, 

BUT    WILL    RECOVER." — Page  322 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


323 


tied  the  tiller  rope  around  him — that  was  what  saved 
him.  He  is  exhausted,  but  he  will  recover.  The  boat 
was  found  drifting  about  just  below  Lone  Point." 

Sylvia  tried  to  ask,  "  Has  anything  been  heard  of 
Mr.  Skelton  ?  "  but  she  could  not.  Conyers  under- 
stood the  dumb  question  in  her  eyes,  and  shook  his 
head.  Poor,  poor  Sylvia ! 

Sylvia,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  walked  by 
Conyers's  side  across  the  Deerchase  lawn.  They  met 
a  crowd — Blair  carrying  Lewis  in  his  arms,  and  Bui- 
strode  trudging  along  weeping,  and  the  negroes  fol- 
lowing. Lewis's  face  was  purplish,  and  he  seemed 
scarcely  to  breathe;  but  when  Bob  Skinny  came 
running  out  of  the  house  with  a  bottle  of  brandy, 
and  they  poured  some  down  his  throat,  he  opened 
his  eyes  and  managed  to  gasp,  "  Where  is  Mr.  Skel- 
ton ? " 

Nobody  answered  him.  Lewis  gulped  down  more 
brandy,  and  cried  out  in  a  weak,  distressed  voice : 

"  I  saw  Mr.  Skelton  put  off  in  the  boat  for  me, 
and  I  was  so  afraid  for  him — " 

His  head  fell  over ;  he  could  not  finish  what  he 
was  saying. 

Blair  and  Bulstrode  took  the  boy  in  the  house 
and  put  him  to  bed  and  worked  with  him;  but  Sylvia 
could  not  leave  the  shore,  and  Conyers  stayed  with 
her  and  Bob  Skinny,  down  whose  ashy  face  a  con- 
stant stream  of  tears  poured.  Conyers  tried  to  en- 
courage Sylvia — the  search  was  still  going  on,  up 
and  down  the  river — but  she  looked  at  him  with 
calm,  despairing  eyes. 

An  hour  before  midnight  a  boat  was  seen  coming 
up  the  river  from  Lone  Point.  Almost  immediately 


324  CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 

the  distant  cries,  the  commotion  along  the  shore 
ceased.  It  was  the  first  boat  that  had  returned,  ex- 
cept the  one  that  brought  Lewis.  The  negroes  all 
gathered  in  crowds  at  the  Deerchase  landing.  Syl- 
via and  Conyers  stood  on  the  little  pier.  The  moon 
was  at  the  full  by  that  time,  and  although  the  water 
was  still  dark  and  troubled,  the  silver  disc  shone 
with  pale  serenity,  and  the  stars  glittered  in  the 
midnight  sky.  Conyers,  although  used  to  sights  of 
human  suffering,  turned  his  face  away  from  Sylvia's 
pallid  anguish.  When  the  boat  struck  the  steps 
that  led  down  from  the  wharf,  the  negroes  suddenly 
uttered  their  weird  shrieks  of  lamentation.  Skel- 
ton's  body  was  being  lifted  out. 

Sylvia  advanced  a  step,  and  the  bearers  laid  their 
burden  down  before  her.  One  side  of  his  face  was 
much  discoloured,  and  one  arm  hung  down,  where  it 
had  been  wrenched  out  of  its  socket.  Conyers  tore 
open  the  coat  and  placed  his  hand  upon  Skelton's 
heart.  There  was  not  the  slightest  flutter.  The  dis- 
coloured face  was  set — he  had  been  dead  some  little 
time.  Sylvia  neither  wept  nor  lamented.  Her  ter- 
rible calmness  made  Conyers's  blood  run  chill. 

"  Carry  him  to  the  house,"  she  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment, in  which  she  had  leaned  down  and  touched  his 
cold  forehead.  "  He  is  quite  dead.  It  is  not  worth 
while  to  send  for  a  doctor.  See,  this  terrible  blow 
upon  the  head  stunned  him — perhaps  killed  him.  I 
never  saw  a  dead  person  before,  but  I  tell  you  there 
is  nothing  to  be  done  for  him." 

The  negroes  took  him  up  and  carried  him  ten- 
derly, Bob  Skinny  holding  the  poor  dislocated  arm 
in  place,  and  everybody  wept  except  Sylvia.  Skel- 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY.  325 

ton  had  been  a  good  master,  and  the  horror  of 
his  death  worked  upon  the  quick  sympathies  of  the 
negroes.  Sylvia  walked  blindly  after  them,  not 
knowing  where  she  was  going,  and  not  caring.  The 
house  was  lighted  up,  as  the  house  servants  had  been 
alarmed  in  the  beginning  of  the  storm.  The  body 
was  carried  in  the  house  and  laid  down  in  the  hall ; 
and  Bulstrode,  coming  down  the  broad  stairs  and 
looking  at  what  once  was  Richard  Skelton,  turned 
pale  and  almost  fainted. 

Then  there  was  an  awful  moment  of  uncertainty. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  Bulstrode  was  clearly  un- 
able to  give  directions  or  to  do  anything.  Blair 
was  working  with  Lewis  upstairs,  and,  besides,  there 
was  something  too  frightfully  incongruous  in  apply- 
ing to  him.  Conyers,  his  heart  breaking  for  Sylvia, 
dared  not  leave  her,  and  there  was  nobody  to  do  for 
the  master  of  the  house.  Then  Bob  Skinny,  the 
most  useless,  the  vainest,  the  least  dependable  of 
creatures,  suddenly  came  to  the  fore.  He  had  loved 
Skelton  with  blind  devotion,  and  he  had  been  the 
person  who  was  with  Skelton  the  most  of  any  one 
in  the  world. 

"I  kin  see  'bout  Mr.  Skelton,"  he  said,  trembling. 
"  Me  and  Sam  Trotter,  an'  dese  here  house  niggers 
kin  do  fer  him." 

Bulstrode,  on  coming  to  himself,  actually  ran  out 
of  the  house  to  escape  that  terrible  Presence  that 
had  just  made  its  majestic  self  known.  Sylvia,  on 
the  contrary,  could  not  be  forced  away  until  she  had 
at  least  seen  Skelton  once  more.  Conyers  sat  by 
her  in  one  of  the  great  drawing-rooms,  awed  at  her 
perfectly  silent  and  tearless  grief.  A  few  candles 


326 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


made  the  darkness  visible.  The  room  was  one  that 
was  never  used  except  upon  some  festive  occasion, 
and  the  contrast  of  Sylvia  sitting  in  mute  despair  in 
the  gala  room  was  a  ghastly  epitome  of  life  and 
death.  Overhead  was  audible  occasionally  the  muf- 
fled sound  of  the  watchers  moving  about  Lewis 
Pryor's  bed ;  and  across  the  hall,  on  the  other  side, 
could  be  heard  distinctly  in  the  midnight  stillness 
the  gruesome  preparations  that  His  Majesty  Death 
requires.  Conyers  was  as  silent  as  Sylvia.  His  emo- 
tions were  always  insoluble  in  speech,  and  now  they 
froze  the  words  upon  his  tongue.  As  soon  as  that 
one  last  look  at  Skelton  was  had  Sylvia  must  leave 
the  house. 

After  waiting  as  much  as  an  hour,  a  step  was 
heard  crossing  the  hall,  and  Bob  Skinny,  with  a 
candle  in  his  hand,  opened  the  door  noiselessly  and 
beckoned  to  Conyers. 

Sylvia  rose  too.  She  knew  what  that  gesture 
meant.  She  walked  firmly  forward  a  few  steps,  and 
then  stopped,  trembling;  but,  with  a  supreme  effort, 
she  went  upon  her  way,  Conyers  close  at  hand  but 
not  touching  her.  She  felt  herself  to  be  in  a  dream 
as  she  crossed  the  familiar  hall  and  entered  the 
library,  which  was  peculiarly  Skelton's  room.  She 
turned  and  closed  the  door  after  her,  which  Conyers 
had  left  partly  open.  The  great  room  was  dimly 
lighted,  but  the  light  scarcely  penetrated  the  deep 
darkness  of  the  corners,  and  the  ceiling  was  lost  in 
gloom.  A  window  was  open,  and  through  it  came 
softly  a  faint,  chill,  odoriferous  wind.  Sylvia  re- 
membered Skelton  once  telling  her  that  in  the  East 
such  a  wind  was  called  the  Wind  of  Death.  The 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 


327 


heavy  curtains  moved  gently,  as  if  touched  by  a 
ghostly  hand,  and  a  branch  of  white  hydrangeas, 
with  which  the  fireplace  was  filled,  trembled  at  it. 
On  the  sofa  lay  Skelton,  looking  the  least  deathlike 
object  in  the  room.  He  was  dressed  in  his  ordinary 
evening  clothes,  and  on  his  delicate  high-arched  feet 
were  black  silk  stockings  and  pumps  with  diamond 
buckles.  He  lay  on  his  side  quite  naturally,  his  dis- 
located arm  drawn  up  under  the  discoloured  side  of 
his  face,  so  that  both  injuries  were  quite  concealed. 
Anything  more  natural  or  graceful  could  not  be 
conceived.  He  seemed  to  have  thrown  himself  on 
the  lounge  after  dinner,  and  have  dropped  asleep  for 
a  few  moments. 

It  was  the  first  dead  person  Sylvia  had  ever  seen, 
and  at  first  that  natural  human  horror  of  the  dead 
quite  overcame  her.  She  covered  her  face  and  fell 
on  a  chair,  and  presently  looked  fearfully  around 
her,  and  everything  was  terrifying  until  she  saw 
Skelton.  All  at  once  horror  of  him  was  banished. 
She  was  no  more  afraid  than  if  he  had  been  lying 
before  her  asleep. 

She  went  up  to  him,  and  knelt  by  him  fondly. 
She  smoothed  the  black  hair  off  the  pale  forehead 
with  a  sweet  sense  of  familiarity.  She  had  felt  con- 
strained by  a  maiden  diffidence  from  any  of  those 
caresses  that  a  woman  sometimes  bestows  on  the 
man  she  loves.  She  never  remembered  having 
touched  his  hair  before  until  that  very  afternoon, 
when  he  had  made  that  remark  about  his  grey  hairs. 
Yes,  there  were  plenty.  She  passed  the  locks  through 
her  fingers — it  was  soft  and  rich,  although  beginning 
to  lose  its  perfect  blackness.  She  examined  his  face 


328 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


carefully  ;  it  was  so  clear  cut — she  had  never  seen 
a  mouth  and  chin  and  nose  more  delicately  and 
finely  outlined. 

"  He  is  not  really  handsome,"  she  said  to  herself, 
looking  at  him  with  ineffable  tenderness;  "but  peo- 
ple had  eyes  for  nobody  else  when  he  was  before 
them.  And  how  strangely  young  he  looks !  and  so 
like  Lewis  !  "  For  the  wonderful  youthfulness  which 
death  sometimes  restores  to  the  human  countenance 
made  Skelton  and  Lewis  most  extraordinarily  alike 
at  that  moment. 

"And  how  happy  we  should  have  been!"  she 
continued,  half  aloud.  "  I  meant  to  have  made  him 
love  me  more  through  that  boy.  I  took  very  meekly 
the  love  he  gave  me,  because  I  knew  the  time  would 
come  when  it  would  be  all  mine — all — all.  It  came 
at  the  very  moment  that  we  were  forever  parted." 

Sylvia  bent  down  to  kiss  the  cold  face,  and  sud- 
denly drew  back,  blushing  redly,  and  looking  about 
to  see  if  she  was  watched — it  had  so  entirely  escaped 
her  that  this  was  not  Skelton.  She  put  her  warm 
young  arms  around  his  neck,  and  kissed  him  a  dozen 
times,  when  in  a  moment  the  coldness,  the  horrible 
insensibility  before  her  penetrated  her  heart.  She 
darted  up  and  ran  wildly  to  the  door,  almost  knock- 
ing Conyers  over,  who  was  just  about  to  enter.  She 
seized  his  hand,  and,  trembling  violently,  cried  out : 

"  I  was  just  a  moment  ago  in  love  with  a  corpse — 
with  a  dead  man,  who  could  not  open  his  eyes  or 
feel  or  hear  anything ;  and  was  it  not  most  unnatural 
and  horrible  ?  Pray,  let  us  go — " 

Conyers  caught  her  cold  hands  in  his,  and  the 
words  he  was  about  to  speak  died  on  his  lips,  so 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


329 


much  did  Sylvia's  face  appal  him.  She  flew  out  of 
the  house,  across  the  lawn,  and  was  almost  at  the 
bridge  before  Conyers  caught  up  with  her. 

''  You  will  kill  yourself,"  he  said  breathlessly, 
but  Sylvia  only  sped  on. 

There  had  been  no  sleep  at  Belfield  that  night. 
A  messenger  had  been  sent  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shap- 
leigh,  but  they  could  not  get  home  before  morning. 
As  Sylvia  rushed  into  the  house  as  if  pursued,  Con- 
yers said : 

"  Let  me  send  for  Mrs.  Blair." 

"  No,  I  will  be  alone,"  answered  Sylvia. 

"  God  will  be  with  you,"  said  Conyers. 

"Yes,"  replied  Sylvia,  walking  about  the  dimly 
lighted  hall,  "  God  will  be  with  me.  I  have  had  a 
great  many  doubts,  as  you  know.  I  asked — "  She 
stopped  in  her  restless  walk  and  tried  to  speak  Skel- 
ton's  name,  but  could  not.  She  continued  :  "  He 
always  put  me  off  gently.  He  told  me  those  people 
were  best  off  who  could  believe  in  God,  the  Father 
of  us  all ;  that  it  was  very  simple,  but  simple  things 
were  usually  the  best.  He  told  me  I  might  read  a 
great  deal — my  mind  was  very  eager  on  the  subject 
— but  that  those  who  claim  God  is  not  proved  can- 
not themselves  prove  he  is  not.  And  I  can  even 
believe  in  the  goodness  of  God  now,  for,  at  the  very 
moment  that  I  was  to  lose — "  She  still  could  not 
speak  Skelton's  name,  and  indicated  it  by  a  pause — 
"  I  had  one  moment  of  rapture  that  was  worth  a  life- 
time of  pain.  I  found  out  that  he  loved  me  better 
than  he  had  ever  loved  anything  on  earth.  Noth- 
ing can  ever  rob  me  of  that  moment.  I  shall 
carry  it  through  this  world  and  into  the  next, 


330  CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 

where  there  is  a  glorious  possibility  that  we  may 
meet  again." 

She  turned,  and  went  quietly  and  noiselessly  up 
the  broad,  winding  stair.  She  looked  like  a  white 
shadow  in  the  gloomy  half-light.  About  midway 
the  stair,  her  form,  that  to  Conyers,  watching  her, 
had  grown  dimmer  at  every  step,  melted  softly  into 
the  darkness. 

Conyers  turned  and  left  the  house. 

When  he  reached  Deerchase  again  everything 
was  solemnly  quiet.  In  a  corner  of  the  hall  Bui- 
strode  was  sitting  by  the  round  table,  with  a  lamp 
on  it,  leaning  his  head  upon  his  hands.  Lewis  was 
sleeping  up-stairs,  and  Blair  was  watching  him.  Con- 
yers, ever  mindful  of  others,  sent  the  servants  off  to 
bed  and  closed  the  house.  He  would  be  the  watcher 
for  the  rest  of  the  night.  It  was  then  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Conyers  went  into  the 
library  and  looked  long  and  fearlessly  at  that  which 
lay  so  peacefully  on  the  sofa.  Death  had  no  terrors 
for  him.  He  believed  the  human  soul  worth  every- 
thing in  the  world,  but  the  body,  living  or  dead, 
mattered  but  little. 

On  the  table  lay  a  riding  glove  of  Skelton's,  still 
retaining  the  shape  of  the  fingers.  Scraps  of  his 
writing  were  about — two  letters,  sealed  and  addressed 
— a  book  with  the  paper  knife  still  lying  between  its 
uncut  leaves.  Conyers,  calm  and  almost  stoical, 
looked  at  it  all,  and  then,  going  into  the  hall,  sat 
down  at  the  table  where  Bulstrode  was,  and,  opening 
a  small  Bible  in  his  pocket,  began  to  read  the  Gospel 
of  St.  Matthew.  The  light  from  the  lamp  fell  upon 
his  stern  features,  that  to  the  ordinary  eye  were 


CHILDREN  OF  DESTINY. 


331 


commonplace  enough,  but  to  the  keener  one  were 
full  of  spirituality.  He  was  half  educated,  but 
wholly  good.  He  wandered  and  blundered  miser- 
ably, but  faith  and  goodness  dwelt  within  him. 

After  a  while  Bulstrode  spoke,  his  rich  voice  giv- 
ing emphasis  to  his  earnest  words : 

"  Conyers,  I  would  give  all  I  know  for  the  peace 
you  enjoy." 

"  Peace !  "  said  poor  Conyers,  raising  his  sombre 
eyes  to  Bulstrode's.  "I  have  no  peace.  It  is  all 
warfare." 

"But  with  the  warfare  you  have  peace,  and  you 
have  no  fear  of — //  " — Bulstrode  shuddered,  and 
pointed  toward  the  library  door,  which  was  slightly 
ajar — "  nor  even  of  death,  which  has  turned  Skelton 
to  //  in  one  moment  of  time." 

"  I  certainly  have  no  fear,"  answered  Conyers, 
after  a  pause.  "I  doubt,  I  am  at  war,  I  suffer 
agonies  of  mind,  but  not  once  have  I  ever  feared 
death.  I  fear  life  much  more." 

Bulstrode  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  then  dis- 
appeared, his  shuffling  step  sounding  with  awful 
distinctness  through  the  silent  house.  He  came 
back  after  a  little  while.  The  fumes  of  brandy  were 
strong  upon  him,  and  in  his  hand  he  carried  two  or 
three  volumes. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  laying  the  books  down  care- 
fully, "  here  is  what  I  read  when  all  the  mysterious 
fears  of  human  nature  beset  and  appal  me — Aristotle 
and  Thomas  Aquinas.  They  are  the  only  two  phi- 
losophers who  agree,  after  all.  Old  Aristotle  went 
to  work  and  built  the  most  beautiful  and  perfect 
bridge,  that  ever  entered  into  the  mind  of  man  to 


332 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


conceive,  a  part  of  the  way  across  the  river  that 
separates  the  known  from  the  unknown.  He  got  a 
solid  foundation  for  every  stone  of  that  bridge ; 
every  step  is  safe  ;  nothing  can  wash  it  away.  But 
he  reached  a  point  where  he  could  not  see  any  far- 
ther. Mists  obscured  it  all.  If  any  man  that  ever 
lived  could  have  carried  this  bridge  all  the  way  over 
in  its  beauty  and  perfection,  Aristotle  was  that  man  ; 
but  having  carried  it  farther  than  it  had  ever  been 
carried  before,  he  said :  '  Here  reason  stops.  Man 
can  do  no  more.  The  Great  First  Principle  must 
now  reveal  the  rest.'  Observe  :  All  the  others  claim 
to  have  done  a  complete  work.  Kant  built  a  great 
raft  that  floated  about  and  kept  men  from  drowning, 
but  it  is  not  a  plain  pathway  on  a  bridge ;  it  cannot 
connect  the  two  shores ;  nobody  can  get  from  the 
known  to  the  unknown  on  it.  Hegel  built  two  or 
three  beautiful  arches  and  called  it  complete,  but  it 
stopped  far  short  of  Aristotle's,  and  led  nowhere. 
Then  there  were  dozens  of  other  fellows,  wading 
around  in  the  shallows  and  paddling  aimlessly  about 
the  river,  and  all  crying  out :  '  Here  is  the  way  ;  this 
is  the  ferry  to  cross.  There  is  no  way  but  mine,  and 
my  way  is  the  only  perfect  way.  There  is  no  more 
to  know  except  what  I  can  tell  you.'  But  Aristotle, 
who  is  the  embodied  Mind,  said  there  was  more  to 
come ;  he  saw  beyond  him  the  wavering  line  of  the 
other  shore ;  but  where  he  stood  was  all  mist  and 
darkness.  He  knew — ah,  the  wise  old  Greek  ! — 
knew  his  work  stopped  short,  and  he  knew  it  could 
be  carried  to  the  end.  He  was  so  great,  therefore, 
that  no  imperfections  could  escape  him  ;  and  he  did 
not  mistake  his  splendid  fragment  for  the  whole. 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


333 


And  he  knew  a  part  so  splendid  must  be  a  part  of 
the  whole.  He  saw,  as  it  were,  the  open  door,  but 
he  could  not  enter ;  he  had  heard  the  overture  played, 
but  he  could  not  remain  to  see  the  curtain  rise.  But 
fourteen  hundred  years  after  Aristotle  had  done  all 
that  mortal  man  could  do  towards  solving  the  great 
problems  of  being,  came  the  man  who  was  to  take 
up  the  work  with  the  same  tools,  the  same  method, 
that  Aristotle  had  left  off.  Ah  !  that  magnificent  old 
heathen  knew  that  it  was  to  come.  But  why  do  I 
call  him  a  heathen  ?  Zounds,  Conyers,  if  any  man 
ever  gave  a  leg  to  revealed  religion,  it  was  Aris- 
totle !  " 

Conyers  was  listening  attentively.  Bulstrode's 
manner  was  grotesque,  but  his  earnestness  was  ex- 
treme and  moving. 

He  picked  up  one  of  his  books  and  caressed  it. 

"  This  other  man  was  Thomas  Aquinas.  I  can't 
help  believing  these  two  men  to  be  now  together  in 
some  happy  region — perhaps  in  a  garden — walking 
up  and  down,  and  in  communion  together.  I  daresay 
the  Greek  was  a  lean,  eagle-eyed  man,  like  ' It'  in 
yonder — "  Bulstrode  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
library  door — "  and  Thomas  was  a  great,  lumbering, 
awkward,  silent  creature.  His  fellow-students  called 
him  the  '  Dumb  Ox,'  but  his  master  said,  '  One  day 
the  bellowing  of  this  ox  shall  shake  the  world.'  He 
was  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  he  saw  the 
beautiful  bridge  more  than  half  way  across,  and  he 
went  to  work  boldly  to  build  up  to  it.  There  were  so 
many  mists  and  shadows,  that  things  on  Aristotle's 
side  had  huge,  uncanny,  misshapen  figures  to  those 
on  the  opposite  side.  And  there  were  quicksands, 


334 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY. 


too,  and  sometimes  it  was  hard  to  find  a  bottom. 
But  this  Thomas  Aquinas  found  it,  and  behold! 
Magnificent  arches  spanning  the  mysterious  river — 
a  clear  pathway  forever  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  from  philosophy 
to  the  revealed  religion." 

All  the  time  he  had  been  speaking  Conyers's  mel- 
ancholy eyes,  which  had  been  fixed  on  him,  gradually 
lightened,  and  when  Bulstrode  stopped  they  were 
glowing. 

"  It  is  of  comfort  to  me  to  hear  you  say  that,"  he 
said. 

"  So  it  was  to  Meno  when  Aristotle  said  he  be- 
lieved in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  Meno  said, 
*  I  like  what  you  are  saying ' ;  and  the  Greek  an- 
swered pleasantly — ah,  he  was  a  pleasant  fellow, 
this  wise  Aristotle — '  I,  too,  like  what  I  am  saying. 
Some  things  I  have  said  of  which  I  am  not  altogether 
confident;  but  that  we  shall  be  better  and  braver 
and  less  helpless  if  we  think  we  ought  to  inquire, 
than  we  should  have  been  if  we  had  indulged  the 
idle  fancy  that  there  was  no  use  in  seeking  to  know 
what  we  do  not  know,  that  is  a  theme  upon  which 
I  am  ready  to  fight  in  word  and  deed  to  the  utmost 
of  my  power.' " 

"But  Aristotle  acknowledges  there  were  some 
things  he  said  about  the  great  question  of  which  he 
was  not  '  confident.' " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Bulstrode  impatiently.  "  There 
are  two  voices  in  every  soul — one  doubting  and  dread- 
ing, the  other  believing  and  loving.  You  see,  the 
other  fellows — Hegel  and  the  rest  of  the  crew — are 
perfectly  cocksure ;  they  are  certain  of  everything. 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


335 


But  old  Aristotle  saw  that  something  in  the  way  of 
proof  was  wanting,  and  that  great,  silent  Thomas 
Aquinas  supplied  the  rest — that  is,  if  there  is  any- 
thing in  Aristotle's  method  of  reasoning." 

"Then  why  are  you  not  a  follower  of  Thomas 
Aquinas  into  the  revealed  religion  ? "  asked  Conyers. 

Bulstrode  was  silent  a  moment,  sighing  heavily. 

"Because — because — Thomas  Aquinas  leads  me 
inevitably  into  the  field  of  morals.  You  see,  all 
rational  religions  are  deuced  moral,  and  that's  what 
keeps  me  away  from  'em.  I  tell  you,  Conyers,  that 
if  you  had  led  such  a  life  as  I  have,  you'd  be  glad 
enough  to  think  that  it  was  all  over  when  the  blood 
stopped  circulating  and  the  breath  ceased.  My  aw- 
ful doubt  is,  that  it's  all  true — that  it  doesn't  stop ; 
that  not  only  life  goes  on  forever,  but  that  the  ter- 
ribly hard  rules  laid  down  by  that  peasant  in  Galilee 
are,  after  all,  the  code  for  humanity,  and  then — great 
God  !  what  is  to  become  of  us  ? " 

Bulstrode  stopped  again  and  wiped  his  brow. 

"You  see,"  he  continued,  in  some  agitation,  after 
a  moment,  "  you  want  it  to  be  true — you  dread  that 
it  can't  be  true — you  are  tormented  with  doubts  and 
harassed  with  questions.  /  don't  want  it  to  be  true. 
I  believe  with  Aristotle  that  there  is  a  Great  First 
Principle.  I  can  be  convinced  by  my  reason  of  that; 
and  I  think  there  is  overwhelming  presumptive  proof 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  but  then — there  may 
be  more,  there  may  be  more.  The  Jewish  carpenter, 
with  that  wonderful  code  of  morals,  may  be  right, 
after  all,  and  I  am  sincerely  afraid  of  it ;  and  if  I 
went  all  the  way  of  the  road  with  Thomas  Aquinas, 
I  should  reach,  perhaps,  a  terrible  certainty.  Talk 


336  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

about  Wat  Bulstrode  being  pure  of  heart,  and  keep- 
ing himself  unspotted  from  the  world,  and  loving 
them  who  do  him  evil — and  the  whole  code  in  its 
awful  beauty — why,  if  that  be  true,  then  I  am  the 
most  miserable  man  alive !  Sometimes  I  tell  myself, 
if  that  code  were  lived  up  to  the  social  system  would 
go  to  pieces ;  and  then  it  occurs  to  me,  that  ideal 
was  made  purposely  so  divine  that  there  was  not  the 
slightest  danger  of  the  poor  human  creature  ever 
reaching  it,  in  this  place  of  wrath  and  tears  ;  that  the 
most  he  can  do  is  to  reach  towards  it,  and  that  lifts 
him  immeasurably.  But  that  very  impossible  per- 
fection, like  everything  else  about  it,  is  unique,  soli- 
tary, creative.  All  other  codes  of  morals  are  pos- 
sible— all  lawgivers  appoint  a  limit  to  human  patience, 
forbearance ;  but  this  strange  code  does  not.  And 
that's  why  I  say  I  am  afraid — I'm  afraid  it's  true." 

Conyers  sat  looking — looking  straight  before  him. 
He  feared  it  was  not  true,  and  Bulstrode  feared  it 
was  true ;  and  he  asked  himself  if  anything  more 
indicative  of  the  vast  gulf  between  two  beings  of  the 
same  species  could  be  conceived. 

Bulstrode  began  again.  His  head  was  sunk  on 
his  breast,  and  he  seemed  to  fall  into  the  deepest 
dejection. 

"  And  you've  got  good  fighting  ground.  I  realise 
that  every  time  I  try  in  my  own  mind  to  fight  this 
Dumb  Ox."  He  laid  his  great  hand  on  one  of  the 
volumes  before  him.  "  There  is  that  tremendous 
argument  of  cause  and  effect.  All  the  other  founders 
of  religions — I  mean  the  real  religions,  not  the  fan- 
ciful mythologies — were  great  men.  Buddha  and 
Mohammed  would  have  been  great  men  had  they 


CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 


337 


never  broached  the  subject  of  religion  ;  and  they  had 
a  lifetime  to  work  in.  And  then  comes  this  Jewish 
carpenter,  and  he  does  nothing — absolutely  nothing 
— except  preach  for  a  little  while  in  the  most  obscure 
corner  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  is  executed  for 
some  shadowy  offence  against  the  ecclesiastical  law, 
and  behold !  his  name  is  better  known  than  the 
greatest  conqueror,  the  wisest  philosopher  that  ever 
lived.  Where  one  man  knows  of  Aristotle,  a  thou- 
sand know  of  him.  Now,  how  could  such  an  enor- 
mous effect  come  from  such  a  trifling  cause  ?  Who 
was  this  carpenter,  with  his  new  doctrine  of  democ- 
racy— socialism,  if  you  will — the  rights  of  the  masses ; 
and  the  masses  didn't  know  they  had  any  rights 
until  then  ! 

"  Most  of  you  half-taught  fellows  find  your  argu- 
ments in  the  code  of  morals;  but  although,  as  I  see, 
the  code  is  ideally  far  superior  to  any  other,  yet  all 
are  good ;  there  were  good  morals  taught  ever  since 
man  came  upon  the  earth,  for  good  morals  means 
ordinary  common  sense. 

"  But  this  religion  of  the  carpenter  is  peculiar. 
It  does  for  thinkers,  and  for  the  innumerable  multi- 
tudes of  the  ages  that  don't  think  and  can't  think. 
It's  wonderful,  and  it  may  be  true.  And,  Conyers,  if 
I  were  a  good  man,  instead  of  a  worthless  dog,  I 
would  not  give  up  the  belief  for  all  the  kingdoms  of 
the  earth." 

Bulstrode  got  up  then  and  went  away  again. 

Conyers  sat,  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  curious 
circumstance  that  all  of  his  so-called  theological 
training  that  was  meant  to  convince  him  of  the  truths 
of  religion  was  so  badly  stated,  so  confusedly  rea- 


338  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

soned,  that  it  opened  the  way  to  a  fiendish  company 
of  doubts;  while  Bulstrode,  who  frankly  declared  his 
wish  that  there  might  be  no  future  life,  helped,  by 
his  very  fears,  to  make  Conyers  a  better  Christian 
than  before. 

When  Bulstrode  returned,  the  odour  of  brandy 
was  stronger  than  ever ;  he  went  to  the  brandy  bot- 
tle for  fortitude  as  naturally  as  Conyers  went  to  his 
Bible. 

But  his  eye  was  brighter,  his  gait  was  less  slouch- 
ing, and  a  new  courage  seemed  to  possess  him. 

Before  this  he  had  turned  his  back  to  the  library 
door,  and  in  his  two  expeditions  after  consolation 
Conyers  noticed  that  he  had  walked  as  far  away 
from  that  door  as  possible.  But  now  he  boldly  went 
towards  the  library,  and  went  in  and  stayed  a  con- 
siderable time. 

When  he  returned  he  sat  down  trembling,  and 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  have  been  to  see  It.  What  a  strange  thing 
was  //  when  //  was  alive,  five  hours  ago  !  How  has 
//  fared  since  ?  How  fares  //  now  ?  How  far  has 
//  travelled  in  those  five  hours  ?  Or  is  //  near  at 
hand  ?  When  //  was  living — when  //  was  Skelton — 
he  was  the  most  interesting  man  I  ever  knew.  He 
had  tremendous  natural  powers,  and,  had  not  fortune 
been  too  kind  to  him,  he  would  have  been  known  to 
the  whole  world  by  this  time.  He  was  weighted 
down  with  money;  it  was  an  octopus  to  him;  it  en- 
abled him  to  do  everything  he  ought  not  to  have 
done,  and  it  kept  him  from  doing  everything  he 
ought  to  have  done.  It  gave  him  a  library  that 
swamped  him ;  it  enabled  him  to  hire  other  men  to 


CHILDREN   OF  DESTINY. 


339 


think  for  him,  when  he  could  have  thought  much 
better  for  himself;  it  put  it  in  his  power  to  follow 
his  enemies  relentlessly,  and  to  punish  them  remorse- 
lessly. Ah,  Conyers,  old  Aristotle  himself  said, 
'  And  rich  in  a  high  degree,  and  good  in  a  high  de- 
gree, a  man  cannot  be.'  What  a  great  good  it  is 
that  few  of  us  can  spare  the  time,  the  thought,  the 
money,  for  our  revenges  like  Skelton !  Most  of  us 
can  only  utter  a  curse  and  go  about  our  business, 
but  Skelton  could  pursue  his  revenge  like  a  game  of 
skill.  Fate,  however,  defeats  us  all.  Let  man  go 
his  way ;  Fate  undoes  all  the  web  he  weaves  so 
laboriously.  Skelton  spent  twenty  years  trying  to 
ruin  Blair,  and  I  believe  he  saved  him.  Nothing  but 
some  terrible  catastrophe  such  as  Skelton  brought 
about  would  ever  have  cured  Blair  of  that  frenzy  for 
the  turf. 

"  But  everything  with  Skelton  went  according  to 
the  rule  of  contrary.  Did  you  ever  know  before  of 
a  rich  man  who  was  disinterestedly  loved  ?  Yet,  I 
tell  you,  that  English  girl  that  married  him  could 
have  married  a  coronet.  His  money  was  a  mere 
bagatelle  to  hers,  and  I  believe  as  truly  as  I  live  that 
Skelton  was  disinterested  in  marrying  that  huge  for- 
tune. 

"And  Sylvia  Shapleigh — ah,  that  poor,  pretty 
Sylvia ! — she  will  never  be  merry  any  more ;  and 
you  and  I  will  never  see  those  green-grey  eyes  of 
hers  sparkle  under  her  long  lashes  again.  She  was 
the  most  desperately  in  love  with  Skelton  of  any 
creature  I  ever  saw.  She  didn't  mind  the  boy — she 
knew  all  about  Lewis — she  didn't  mind  anything; 
she  loved  this  rich  man  not  for  his  money,  but  for 


340  CHILDREN   OF   DESTINY. 

himself.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  queer  thing  on 
this  ridiculous  old  planet  before  ?  And  Lewis — the 
boy  of  whom  Skelton  was  at  first  ashamed — how 
proud  he  became  of  him !  and  how  he  craved  that 
boy's  love !  And  nobody  ever  held  out  so  long 
against  Skelton  as  that  black-eyed  boy,  the  living 
image  of  him,  his  son  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to 
the  sole  of  the  foot. 

"  But  at  last  Skelton  won  Lewis  over ;  he  won 
Sylvia  Shapleigh ;  he  won  the  power  to  work ;  he 
won  everything;  only  this  day  he  won  the  battle 
over  himself;  he  was  generous  to  Blair,  and  then  in 
the  midst  of  it  comes  Death,  the  great  jester,  and 
says,  '  Mount  behind  me;  leave  all  unfinished.'  And 
Skelton  went.  The  little  spark  of  soul  went,  that  is, 
and  left  behind  the  mass  of  the  body  it  dragged 
around  after  it." 

Bulstrode  paused  again,  and  Conyers,  opening 
the  Bible,  read  some  of  the  promises  out  of  the  Gos- 
pel of  Matthew.  Bulstrode  listened  attentively. 

"  Read  that  part  where  it  commands  the  forgive- 
ness of  enemies,"  he  said. 

Conyers  read  them,  his  voice,  although  low,  echo- 
ing solemnly  through  the  great,  high-pitched  hall. 
Bulstrode  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  then, 
rising  suddenly,  went  a  second  time  to  the  library. 
He  came  back  in  a  few  moments.  His  coarse  face 
was  pale,  his  eyes  dimmed. 

"  I  have  forgiven  him — I  have  forgiven  Skelton," 
he  said.  "  He  was  not  good  to  me,  although  he  was 
a  thousand,  thousand  times  better  to  me  than  I  was 
to  myself;  but  I  have  forgiven  him  all  I  had  against 
him.  The  dead  are  so  meek ;  even  the  proud  Skel- 


CHILDREN  OF   DESTINY.  34! 

ton  looks  meek  in  death.  And  I  tell  you,  he  was  a 
man  all  but  great — all  but  good." 

The  lamp  was  burning  low;  there  was  a  faint 
flutter  of  sparrows'  wings  under  the  eaves ;  a  wind, 
fresh  and  soft,  rustled  among  the  climbing  roses  that 
clung  to  the  outer  wall ;  a  blackbird  burst  suddenly 
into  his  homely  song,  as  if  bewitched  with  the  ecstasy 
of  the  morning.  The  pale  grey  light  that  penetrated 
the  chinks  and  crannies  of  the  hall  changed  as  if  by 
magic  to  a  rosy  colour.  The  day  was  at  hand. 
Conyers  closed  his  Bible,  and  said,  with  solemn  joy, 
to  Bulstrode : 

"  And  so  you  fear  all  this  is  true  ?  What  ineffa- 
ble comfort  it  gives  me !  A  man  of  your  learning 
and — " 

"Learning!"  cried  Bulstrode,  throwing  himself 
back  in  his  chair.  "Look  at  //  in  yonder!  //  was 
learned ;  /  am  learned ;  but  all  of  us  can  only  cry, 
as  the  Breton  mariners  do  when  they  put  to  sea : 
"Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us  !  for  our  boat  is  so  small, 
and  Thy  ocean  is  so  black  and  so  wide ! " 

"Amen  !  "  said  Conyers,  after  a  moment. 


THE   END. 


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